Bagel Without the Cream Cheese

Some things just don't go together. We all know this. Peanut butter and jelly. Forrest Gump and Jenny. Those are just pairs we're familiar with, but there's just some things that we never want to blend, like Richard Simmons and small spandex shorts or super tall girls walking around with boyfriends half their size-some things are just plain wrong. Today I witnessed one of these instances on my way back to my dorm here in New York City, steps away from the intimidating upper east side streets.

I walked out of the college, taking my normal trek back to my seemingly distant dorm room. Sixteen blocks wasn't as comforting on this brisk Monday morning, however, since I was interrupted by light rain. Now, don't get me wrong here, I love the rain, but when I have to walk back to my humble abode wearing a heavy coat and my little ballet flats, the subway seemed like a great escape.

A few blocks later, I finally made it to the 6 subway station at 68th. Avoiding the glares of a few annoyingly wet people, I found shelter beneath the subway pass. Sliding my card into the slot, I scooted pass the metal bar walking to wait for the subway. Usually my iPod is off by this point since I find myself interested in the strange subway people around me. This time, though, I didn't want to quiet Ron Burgundy just yet. Oh, Anchorman- it's pretty much the cheese to my macaroni, the Juno to my Bleaker.

Weeks earlier I actually bought the song Afternoon Delight, not by the original, no, but by the wonderful Will Ferrell and the rest of the Anchorman cast. But as the subway pulled away from the station, I found the song's title to be far from what surrounded me. A creepy, few-toothed person faced me, laying on the once-empty subway seat. In front of me, a pair of dark eyes bore into mine, reminding me how pissed off someone can show with one look. Oh, and I forgot to mention the overall ambiance of beyond tired/depressed people surrounding me. Sorrow-filled the subway train while an amazingly retarded song of joy filled my ears.

So much for Afternoon Delight.