File this under Crazy NYC Stuff

We were in Jersey on Sunday with Mike helping a friend prepare a nursery in his house. A decent time was had by all.

The subway trip home was interesting, though.

Macho bullshit gym-rat jock asshole and his stripper girlfriend (whose relationship likely started sometime last night) get on at Union Square. Jock asshole starts broadcasting to the train that he's called "AKA Mr Biggest Dick" and begins comparing his orgasms to quarts of milk, while she swung around on the pole.

This goes on for a few minutes. Jillian had zero tolerance for this crap and put on her headphones to tune him out immediately. I took the time to think of what to say.

"Excuse me, could you not talk like that in public? Everyone can hear you."

He started shaking his head in disbelief, as though I was lowly scum seeking manna from the gods. As though I was a "hater".

"I don't care about you, I can do whatever I want."

"I don't care about you, either. But more people here don't want to hear your bullshit. Your friend might, but no one else does."

"I don't care about you - "

"Obviously. Is this how you talk in front of your mother? Your sister? No one else wants to hear your vile crap."

"I don't care about you, I'll be all over you before you even know."

"That's great. How about being a man instead of a boy?"

At that point he just stews and talks other crap to his friend, just a lot quieter, and glared at me. I get the knife in my Leatherman ready, hidden in my bag just in case, because he did make a thinly veiled threat. And I just smiled.

The woman he was with handed him a package of Tootsie-Pops. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a box cutter. Once he was done, it went back into the bag, and the bag went onto his back. I kept smiling.

Fortunately, they got off the train a couple of stops before we did.