I’ve been spending a lot of time on the Upper East Side recently. Never fear, fellow East Villagers, I haven’t defected or anything. I, uh, kind of met this girl who’s totally amazing and… oh, shit. She reads my blog. Her face is probably beet red right now. Sorry. Anyway, she lives on the Upper East Side. So, this morning, I opted to take a bus to work from her apartment, since I would rather shoot myself than get on a 6 train at 8:30am. On the bus, I had my “welcome to the Upper East Side” moment.
As I got on the bus, I noticed that the only available seats were in the back row. Of the five seats, three were already occupied. All three were occupied by young women. All three young women were doing their makeup. Like, hardcore. Like, foundation, powder, mascara, that little mirror, all that shit. These women never talked to each other, either. I think it was just a pure coincidence that all three of them consider bus time to be makeup time. I wasn’t aware that the last row of the bus was the makeup row. Had I known, I would’ve brought them some lip gloss.
Now that’s something you don’t see on the M14.