At some point during your lifespan, you’ve probably (OK, most likely) stayed out late and gotten a bit too full of legal adult beverages to the point that the mere act of walking home becomes a challenging task. As in staying vertical is quite hard because the gravitational pull of concrete doubles per pint consumed. That and/or you just so happened to make the amateur mistake of over-beveraging at a tavern much further than you can stagger and crawl back to that warm bed you left when the sun was happily shining in the sky.

Anyway, at a certain hour when the local transportation system goes from reliable to pumpkin coach with rotted wheels and a dead horse, the night takes a really strange turn. Sure you COULD do the stupid tourist or out of towner thing and take a taxi to your humble abode, but any decent New York tippler KNOWS that’s just MORE money for food and booze the next time you’re out (or that hangover breakfast later that afternoon) you’re throwing away. Besides, that cabbie will circle you to Jersey and through Staten Island (or vice versa) before winding up with the entire contents of your wallet because you’ll be too blasted to know the difference. Or you’ll simply lose your money in that dark cab between the seat cushions when you finally get to your place. Cabbies know this (it’s why they’re always smiling on the weekends, sucker)…

As bad as cabs are, public transportation is worse (as I mentioned above before I got sidetracked… as usual). As you can see above, if you take more that four minutes to stumble and stagger your way to that train, you then get a 64 minute penalty (Hey, I can read. And add. Just subtract four minutes, kids). That, dear reader is the Hell Train. Seriously. You just so happened to perambulate out of that bar and forget to use the restroom? Miss that first train and your Hell is one of leg-crossing and finding the best ways NOT to pee yourself as the sound of running water from that leaky pipe near that bench the stinky homeless guy is on. Then you realize that’s NOT the sound of running water all, but that smelly guy peeing himself and it’s all over for you. HELLLLLL!

By the way, it’s not all bad down there, folks. The don’t serve beer in Hell, but the food is hot and cheap (see photo one!). Drop on down sometime. Hell, you’ll be drunk anyway and probably dead too, so that buzz will last you a while. Besides, I think Sisyphus needs a break from all that rock ‘n roll. You like rock, don’t you? The harder, the better you say? “Bring it!” you say? OK, It’s BROUGHT. In fact, he’s got a really BIG one… er, collection to share with anyone who can keep up with his fancy moves. And it’s great cardio, too! I’ll let him know you’re coming. Just stay off the subway, as it’ll take forever. Wait, who am I kidding – he’s got all the time in the world…

*Or if you’re reading this and are of a certain age, at some point, you WILL find yourself out too late and finding it hard to stay upright. Cut out this page and keep it in your wallet as a cautionary tale… or else.