But don't worry! Such a realization will not deter me from exploring the VERY IMPORTANT TOPIC that is on hand today.
I have been living in New York Cit-ay for about 2 and a half glorious years now, and, after much careful observation and note-taking and rampant judging, I am ready to share with you my very deep thoughts on a disturbing trend: people reading erotica on the subway.
We all know that the NYC Subway is a literal den (n. dark, underground place) of iniquity. However, while I may have adjusted to the idea that bums could pee on me while I'm down there, I will almost certainly see puke and old people are probably going to grope each other (actually, no, I'm still not okay with that last one), I cannot wrap my head around the idea that the guy sitting next to me on my commute is reading crazy SEXY tales of sexiness and intrigue.
Who is this fun for? Nothing against intrigue and sexiness (and probably also pirates and/or lesbians and/or piresbians. Wait, that's not in your erotica?), but how can you really let yourself get super-excited about your delightfully saucy pirate lesbians when you're on a crowded train?
The 8:45 AM F train doesn't seem the best environment for, um, immersing yourself in the story. How will you really give due attention to all the little nuances of the story - the literary easter eggs that I'm sure are hidden throughout the text? Also, how do you feel sexy on a train? All kinds of strangers are touching you, and not in an interesting, naughty way, but more like in a creepy, smelly way. I just don't know how people get in the mood for this sort of thing.
Maybe they actually started reading the night before - in their boudoir, draped in velvet, or whatever would be appropriate - and the story was just SO GOOD they couldn't wait to see what happened next. Like, does the lesbian pirate queen fall for the manly wiles of Raul, the secret castaway and the only man for miles? I MUST KNOW.
A sound theory, but it still doesn't explain why people feel the need to reach the end of their tale RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. Have you people not heard of book covers? Paper bags? The kindle? Anything that will keep me from having to read titles like "Lesbian Pirates of the Future II: The Treasure is Buried Deeper This Time" first thing in the morning?
Or is that part of the excitement - knowing that people know what you're reading? Is it like the poor man's version of the Mile High Club, where the whole thrill is knowing that everyone else knows what you're doing, and that some poor sap has to sit next to you for the next three hours before landing in St. Louis?
What if it's more than just PART of the excitement, and some of these supposed erotica readers are actually deeply involved in "The Good Earth" but, for the sake of badassery and freaking others out, has replaced that book's cover with "Lesbian Pirates." Probably gives them more space on the crowded commute. In fact, next time you think you see me reading Head Bangers: An APF Sexcapade (Strebor Quickiez) by Zane, don't get freaked out -- I'm just trying to keep the real sickos from bugging me on my commute.
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