In the world of consulting, one must listen and cater to a lot of pent up feelings held by the big-wigs of his or her company. Let us just say that those you counsel have a lot of emotional baggage, and you become their bellhop.

Therefore, because of the mental exhaustion caused by my job (and my early onset dementia), I’ve found that my ride home on the subway becomes my only “me time.” Yes, that’s right: instead of going home and crying in the shower like a real woman, I prefer to let my emotions rain down while I shove myself onto a train car like I was lit on fire. Luckily, I’m of strong German heritage, so by “letting my emotions rain down” I mean “grimacing.”

Sometimes, “my time” is interrupted by “others.” “Others” who like to “talk” during “my time.” I hear a lot of strange things, but the “ones” I’ve “collected” below are by far, “the best.” (That’s a lot of quote marks, I think my keyboard is broken.)

• Do you mind if I put my knee here?
• Let’s go down to the waterfront, there be MAD hos down at the waterfront
• Is that thing scurrying over there a rat or a raccoon?
• But where did the circus clown touch you?
• No, I’m sure it’s not contagious! I mean, pretty sure, I haven’t talked to the doctor yet.
• If one more person does something to piss me off I swear to God I’m going to rip their fucking face off.
• Ugh, I stepped in some gum – oh.

Yes, “my time” isn’t really a moment alone with myself. It seems that even in my free time, I am inexplicably wound back in to the whines and moans of others, except in these instances I’m not getting paid and I usually leave feeling like I just got pregnant.

Oh, and #6 was me. Happy travels.

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Alison Burke is a writer from the Washington D.C. area, and has been a past Defenestration contributor. She enjoys cake and male models. She wishes her life was more like a Baby Bash video — save she would be the douche wearing a sideways cap as bikini-clad men grooved comedically for her viewing pleasure.