On the train to the city we see a bunch of kids dressed as elfs, Santa Clauses, and slutty Mrs. Clauses..it's packed...Saturday. An awkward staring fest as to who gets the best seats and who's nice enough to give their seats to a lady and stand the whole time. Then get this....a couple a more kids in Santa outfits come, sporting a 12 pack of bud light. America: drunk Santa Clauses....for the kids, you know? They might as well dress in shirts that say "Fuck you and Fuck Christmas."

Then there are the adult drunks dressed like Santa Claus too...full beards and everything. I wonder what the guy who stamps the tickets thinks...probably takes Xanax every day to deal with an overload of New Yorkers. If he has a wife, I'm sure she's never bored with his stories.

I find out every one is dressed like a Santa Claus for some shit called "Santacon" where people dress like Santa Claus and go around to bar hop. Something tells me people lost the meaning of Christmas a long time ago. Just a little. The sad part is: they are starting to rub off on me...it's noon on a Saturday and I want a beer...fucking pathetic.

We get to the MET after walking the 55 blocks or so that it is to get there. I sit alone on a bench to stare at some painting and write when another little kid comes up to me. He doesn't say anything...just stares at me with this grill on his face. Then I laughed and asked him if he was enjoying himself...a stupid question as I don't really see how any little kid could really enjoy a place like this. You could tell his parents brought him there and he was just passing the time. Then he sat next to me and began drawing a picture. I smiled and just continued writing.

When he was done, he showed me. It was a circle, to represent a head, two dots, no nose, a line for a mouth, and the upper part of a boxed body. He said "that's you." I told him it was incredibly accurate. Then he began drawing lines coming out of me and a larger mouth to signify me yelling and said: "This is you angry." It was kind of funny because yelling was just what I felt like doing in the hot as hell, sweaty museum. I told him it was fantastic and asked him if I could keep it, he said alright. But right as I took it he snapped it back and said, "No, it's mine!" Then his mother came and took his hand and walked away, smiling at me. I'm glad she smiled instead of giving me a dirty look.

We get to the Egyptian section and there's this huge freaking pillar that was supposedly made thousands of years ago, or whatever, and this HUGE tomb that could fit 3 Velociraptors comfortably, and there was two more little kids using these two marble slants next to a staircase as a slide. They just wanted to slide, you know? All these big awe inspiring pieces of art and they really didn't notice. They were just having fun.

After walking 20 more blocks, crossing central park, witnessing a guy screaming at a hot dog vendor for giving him the wrong order, countless dogs taking shits, and people shouting into cell phones, we take a subway and get back to the train home. There's about 500 people all waiting for the same train, all waiting to get back to their richy suburban Long Island homes, all have faces on that suggest they want to shoot someone.

Track 16 is announced and there's the--of course--bumble-rush where people push you and curse...anything but waiting an hour for the next train. These are the same people who ride your ass on the L.I.E. even though you're doing 80 M.P.H. The train is so crowded, we're forced to stand. I feel bad for those with claustrophobia...but really, if you have claustrophobia you really have no business living in New York.

It's one of those times where you joke with random strangers just to pass the awkward time of standing next to them. New York can be home to the nicest people sometimes...but it's so rare that when it does happen I feel like it needs to be documented. This old lady next to us offered a ticket...I just asked her where she was 10 minutes ago I could have saved 11 bucks, but really I was shocked at the offer.

By the time we got home I did the usual washing of my hands for 30 minutes after touching all that dirty shit...dirty subway poles that you touch and feel filth. I can barely move my right leg but...it was a good day. To be honest....all I feel like doing now is going down a slide.