There's this guy I call the ginger giant, why? Because he's got red hair and he's quite tall. The relationship that I share with the ginger giant involves me acting like an idiot in his presence. I know what you're thinking, oh good! Well, it does work in your favor. So I run into him here and there on Wednesday nights when I volunteer for church, I do something stupid and then avoid being around him for the rest of the time he's there. Last Wednesday he happened to be there and through the whole of the night I'd managed to not be a complete prat. Phew! Sadly had started to count my chickens before they hatched. I was one of the last people to leave so I put my ear phones in and headed to the subway, swiped my card and walked onto the platform. I looked to my right and who do I see? 2 girls I work with chatting with the ginger giant. Well, they saw me, I had to be social now, I slowly walked over while I took my earphones out said hi as the train pulled into the station. We all got on the packed train and ended up standing in our little group. We all started chatting and the train pulled out of the station. I was still in the midst of putting away my music and ear phones, which I always detach from my music due to an issue with a previous ipod where I lost the function of one of the ear buds due to compression on one of the boards somewhere in the device due to earphones staying in all the time and being wrapped around it.
My left hand expertly found it's way to the pocket where I store my iphone and my left hand patiently waited for it's turn to put away the ear buds. Suddenly the train jerked and I found myself loosing what little balance I had. With cat like reflexes my left hand jumped forward for the poll just in front of me, and the ear buds, dutiful to the laws of physics came along with it. Unfortunately I hadn't put the bulk of the ear buds into my hand and just had one portion of the cord, thus allowing the ear buds to fly out in a perfect arch and due to its loyalty to physics and centripetal force the ear buds continued to arc through the air and come back toward the poll where I held on tightly. They flew fast, they flew hard and they flew just millimeters away from some dude's face. As I saw the ear buds get dangerously close to this guy's eyes my own eyes bulged out in shock, horror, amazement and fear. Luckily for everyone involved, ie me, the ear buds and the guy I was so close to blinding, the lad didn't look up and without knowing it saved his sight. There was nothing I could do but watch as the ear buds kept flying through the air until they came to rest tightly wrapped around the poll and my hand.
It was over! We all made it out alive and the train was on a stable path. I relaxed a little and released my grip on the poll, probably with a little too much force as the reverse of what I'd previously watched with eyes in horror replayed itself. Why did I have to repeal my grip so quickly? It may have had something to do with the rising of color in my cheeks at my stupidity, and the never fail situation of making an arse of myself in front of the ginger giant.
What did my travel companions have to say about my epic abilities? Well, in what I think is a way to help me not feel like an arse was to start talking about using a whip to hold your balance on a train, just like Indiana Jones.
I didn't take offence when the guy I very nearly blinded got off at the next stop.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Riding the Subway is Like a Box of Chocolates, You Ne'er Know What You're Going to Get!
With all of these snow storms whizzing their way around the city the subways are bound to have a few delays. Who is to say that these delays aren't a little like Christmas and as fun as a sunny afternoon in the park?
On a very particularly wet Thursday I was trying to catch the 6 train after work so I walk into the subway and see the platform full. Hmmm, I says to myself, I think I'll walk down to the end of the train so there will be a better shot of getting on the next train that comes trucking into the station. As any other impatient person standing on the platform, which is everyone who has lived in NY for more than 4 months, I lean over the edge to check for the lights at the dark end of the tunnel. After a few minutes my faith in the MTA, that there will always be another train, is once again confirmed as the lights came into view and I stepped back behind the yellow line to safely await my sliver express. To my dismay, the train was packed tighter than a can of sardines. Well I went against all other instincts to push my way onto the train, as we all know there is always room for one more. However, this was the one exception. I decided that the luxury of not being sandwiched by 23452 strangers was the primary objective for the evening, so I didn't bother with this train. My fellow subway riders on the platform were of the same mind and we all waited while the doors closed and the train went on its way.
Then the waiting game resumed, and pretty much every 30 seconds you tilt your head over the side of the platform to see lights down the tunnel hurdling toward you at unknown speeds. Literally, you don't know how fast they're coming because it's so far away and all black. But eventually the next train did come into the station and low and behold it was the same situation. Train packed to the gills. I still decided it was too much of sardines for me, however, this time the folks on the platform didn't as such agree with me, and they were set to get on the train. 4 people pushed their way into the train and the last guy had all his weight leaning toward all the riders of the train, yet his backside still hung heavily out of the train door parameters. That's when the bells rang letting everyone know that the doors were going to shut. The doors started to close, sadly for this guy he wasn't quite to one side to only deal with 1 door, he was sort of off to one side but in the way of both doors. I figured that the doors would try to close once and then open again for this guy to get his booty out of the way. But the doors were set on getting shut, and not giving second chances. The left side started its journey to the meet the right door, which got stuck only a few inches into its journey and contacted the man in the way. The right door promptly opened a little, and it was at this moment that the left door made contact with the guy, who incidentally was blocking its final resting place. When the left door opened the right door gave closing another go, and obviously hit the guy again because he hasn't moved any which way. The right side opened a bit again as the left side hit the guy again, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side. I couldn't believe my good fortune as I wasn't the bloke in the door getting kneaded like they were in a bread maker but got to witness this beating first hand.
Now I know some of you would say that I'm prone to exaggerations, but I don't exaggerate the really funny things, obviously because they don't need any additional bits to make it funny. But this went on for 20 seconds. I couldn't keep a straight face, neither could the girl next to me on the platform. Someone took pity on him and let him into the train, all except his bag strap which they didn't bother to try to get inside the train. Once the lardy bloke was in they took what they could get and off they went.
On my next subway ride home that evening I was reading one of the Georgia books, "Dancing in my Nuddy Pants", a title that I haven't particularly had any embarrassment reading on the train due to my laughter comatose which inhibits me from looking around the train and catching any reactions from the title that I just can't keep hidden. The oldie bloke that I was perched next to on the train took the opportunity right before my stop to say, "That's a funny title." "Yes, yes, it is." I didn't particularly want to talk to him about my book that dealt with dancing, alone, naked. But he sure wanted to talk about it. I guess what I should have said was "Look lardy old bloke, it's a teen series that I thank the good Lord for everyday, and yes the title isn't as such one that would be American. I have to go now." Instead I found that ignorevousing was a great tactic. It ne'er fails.
On a very particularly wet Thursday I was trying to catch the 6 train after work so I walk into the subway and see the platform full. Hmmm, I says to myself, I think I'll walk down to the end of the train so there will be a better shot of getting on the next train that comes trucking into the station. As any other impatient person standing on the platform, which is everyone who has lived in NY for more than 4 months, I lean over the edge to check for the lights at the dark end of the tunnel. After a few minutes my faith in the MTA, that there will always be another train, is once again confirmed as the lights came into view and I stepped back behind the yellow line to safely await my sliver express. To my dismay, the train was packed tighter than a can of sardines. Well I went against all other instincts to push my way onto the train, as we all know there is always room for one more. However, this was the one exception. I decided that the luxury of not being sandwiched by 23452 strangers was the primary objective for the evening, so I didn't bother with this train. My fellow subway riders on the platform were of the same mind and we all waited while the doors closed and the train went on its way.
Then the waiting game resumed, and pretty much every 30 seconds you tilt your head over the side of the platform to see lights down the tunnel hurdling toward you at unknown speeds. Literally, you don't know how fast they're coming because it's so far away and all black. But eventually the next train did come into the station and low and behold it was the same situation. Train packed to the gills. I still decided it was too much of sardines for me, however, this time the folks on the platform didn't as such agree with me, and they were set to get on the train. 4 people pushed their way into the train and the last guy had all his weight leaning toward all the riders of the train, yet his backside still hung heavily out of the train door parameters. That's when the bells rang letting everyone know that the doors were going to shut. The doors started to close, sadly for this guy he wasn't quite to one side to only deal with 1 door, he was sort of off to one side but in the way of both doors. I figured that the doors would try to close once and then open again for this guy to get his booty out of the way. But the doors were set on getting shut, and not giving second chances. The left side started its journey to the meet the right door, which got stuck only a few inches into its journey and contacted the man in the way. The right door promptly opened a little, and it was at this moment that the left door made contact with the guy, who incidentally was blocking its final resting place. When the left door opened the right door gave closing another go, and obviously hit the guy again because he hasn't moved any which way. The right side opened a bit again as the left side hit the guy again, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side, then the right side, then the left side. I couldn't believe my good fortune as I wasn't the bloke in the door getting kneaded like they were in a bread maker but got to witness this beating first hand.
Now I know some of you would say that I'm prone to exaggerations, but I don't exaggerate the really funny things, obviously because they don't need any additional bits to make it funny. But this went on for 20 seconds. I couldn't keep a straight face, neither could the girl next to me on the platform. Someone took pity on him and let him into the train, all except his bag strap which they didn't bother to try to get inside the train. Once the lardy bloke was in they took what they could get and off they went.
On my next subway ride home that evening I was reading one of the Georgia books, "Dancing in my Nuddy Pants", a title that I haven't particularly had any embarrassment reading on the train due to my laughter comatose which inhibits me from looking around the train and catching any reactions from the title that I just can't keep hidden. The oldie bloke that I was perched next to on the train took the opportunity right before my stop to say, "That's a funny title." "Yes, yes, it is." I didn't particularly want to talk to him about my book that dealt with dancing, alone, naked. But he sure wanted to talk about it. I guess what I should have said was "Look lardy old bloke, it's a teen series that I thank the good Lord for everyday, and yes the title isn't as such one that would be American. I have to go now." Instead I found that ignorevousing was a great tactic. It ne'er fails.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
You Best Recognize
In a city where the number of pedestrians out numbers the average amount of cars on the road pedestrians can get a little cocky. Sadly enough, the first thing that you learn about crossing the street is the first thing that you forget; there is no looking right or left for cars, you step off the sidewalk without breaking your stride. Cars are an after thought, generally when you hit the middle of the road you think: "hmm, I wonder if there are any cars speeding in my general direction..." and it's this point where you'll take a glance. On smaller streets you're generally fine, it's those larger intersections that can be a little tricksy.
The ankle express has some advantages, take stop lights. When 15 people all cross the street against the light at one time the cars have the choice of either plowing through a crowd of people, or stopping against their green. Generally they choose to lay on their horn, slow down, curse under their breath (or quite loudly), sometimes add a hand gesture, then wait for the masses to disperse. TADA you cross the streets and are on your merry way without any further delay!
However, when the number of pedestrians to cars falls in the opposite direction, cars tend not to stop. There's just the horn, maybe they'll slow down, but when it's 1 on 1, car v pedestrian, the winner is always the car and the pedestrian has to try their darnedest to get out of its path. And sadly, I've seen it go both ways.
All of this of course is except when you're in Harlem. In Harlem, the rules all change, in fact, there are no rules except all for 1 and 1 for 1 and I'm the 1. The fact of the matter is, when someone steps off the sidewalk in Harlem, they don't look left, they don't look right, they look straight, put one foot in front of the other and keep on trucking. When that old familiar horn rings out, sure, they'll look, they'll even get out of the way, but not without being completely put out. Where on earth did that car think it had the right to continue on its path when I'm in the middle of the street?? (Sure, crossing against the light, but hey...) The audacity of those cars-
Am I a culprit of this new law that is less of order and more of chaos? Oh sure, but I don't take as much offense as the bloke I saw today. He and his lady were trying to cross the street against the light and a car was not about to give them the right of way, and he had quite the fit. Other than that it was quite a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
All of these fun scenes only deepens my love for sociology and observing social interactions and reactions. So thank you New York, I wonder what you have in store for me tomorrow...
PS I ran into the Fashionista on the bus this morning. He said hi to me and I couldn't for the life of me recognize who he was under all the flare: hat, glasses, beard, scarf, and interesting coat. There was no face to recogize, it was only by putting all of his flare together that I put together the mark of the Fashionista and could return the salutation.
The ankle express has some advantages, take stop lights. When 15 people all cross the street against the light at one time the cars have the choice of either plowing through a crowd of people, or stopping against their green. Generally they choose to lay on their horn, slow down, curse under their breath (or quite loudly), sometimes add a hand gesture, then wait for the masses to disperse. TADA you cross the streets and are on your merry way without any further delay!
However, when the number of pedestrians to cars falls in the opposite direction, cars tend not to stop. There's just the horn, maybe they'll slow down, but when it's 1 on 1, car v pedestrian, the winner is always the car and the pedestrian has to try their darnedest to get out of its path. And sadly, I've seen it go both ways.
All of this of course is except when you're in Harlem. In Harlem, the rules all change, in fact, there are no rules except all for 1 and 1 for 1 and I'm the 1. The fact of the matter is, when someone steps off the sidewalk in Harlem, they don't look left, they don't look right, they look straight, put one foot in front of the other and keep on trucking. When that old familiar horn rings out, sure, they'll look, they'll even get out of the way, but not without being completely put out. Where on earth did that car think it had the right to continue on its path when I'm in the middle of the street?? (Sure, crossing against the light, but hey...) The audacity of those cars-
Am I a culprit of this new law that is less of order and more of chaos? Oh sure, but I don't take as much offense as the bloke I saw today. He and his lady were trying to cross the street against the light and a car was not about to give them the right of way, and he had quite the fit. Other than that it was quite a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
All of these fun scenes only deepens my love for sociology and observing social interactions and reactions. So thank you New York, I wonder what you have in store for me tomorrow...
PS I ran into the Fashionista on the bus this morning. He said hi to me and I couldn't for the life of me recognize who he was under all the flare: hat, glasses, beard, scarf, and interesting coat. There was no face to recogize, it was only by putting all of his flare together that I put together the mark of the Fashionista and could return the salutation.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Sandwiched Between the British Isles
I'm not one that's been known to embrace mornings. In fact, I'd go as far to call mornings my arch nemesis and I'll call my alarm the most annoying sound in the world, hands down. Am I the only one that would categorize this relationship as doomed? Not as such, just ask my roommates who know not to talk to me, in fact they know pretty much not to even acknowledge my existence in the mornings and just let me roll out of bed, take my 5 minutes in the bathroom and be on my way to the train 15 minutes after rolling out of bed.
Even on sunny warm mornings I'll take my surly walk to the subway dodging kids on their way to school and other on their way to work. I'm not sure the how effective the guy standing outside the subway entrance handing out the AM New York is, but everyday the dude is like "AM New York?" and thrusts it in my path.
I know this good man is just trying to do his job, so I say "No thank you." However, if this is said at an audible level I couldn't really tell you, some days it's a mumble, some days it's said in my head and I think my lips moved. But there are some days when I actually enunciate and get the words out.
What's the worst part about the subway? Other than people, who may or may not fit in the open space sit down on the edge and slide ever so slowly until their backs are flush with the back of the seat and shimmy their shoulders so they push your shoulders just enough so that you're now shoulder to shoulder with them whether you like it or not, and yes, sometimes that is their elbow resting on your hip bone. But the worst is having to listen to inane conversations between people who yell across the cars or talk just a little too loudly, or even worse, high school kids.
I found myself in just this position one especially surly morning. These two girls had sat down on either side of me at Columbus Circle and I was like, please, please don't let them know each other and want to have a chat. And, of course they did.
I cursed the morning and widened my eyes in disbelief and contemplated whether or not the girls would be offended if I turned up my ipod. Then I decided, did I want to even move? No was the answer. I thought I'd be nice and not that person on the train that can't handle being in public, but of course I was still put off.
And that is when I heard it. The sweet vowel emphasis that is so different from the American version. And then the response had it too! My heart quickend and I was glad that I didn't turn up my music, if I did I wouldn't have been able to take the next 3 subway stops to determine where the accents came from.
My ear for accents has been retired since I've moved back from the UK, unfortunately. So I can't say where in England someone lives anymore and it takes a few vowels for me to determine Scottish vs Irish, if the brogue isn't too thick.
It's amazing the rate at which my mood changed as those young lasses chatted and how I was so intent on hearing a conversation, when mere minutes before I would have rather have died than heard the slightest peep. But I'll tell you this for free, being able to determine that one was Scottish and the other Irish made my geart fill with pride and just being sandwiched in between the Brisith Isles made me feel at home, and made the start of a great morning.
Even on sunny warm mornings I'll take my surly walk to the subway dodging kids on their way to school and other on their way to work. I'm not sure the how effective the guy standing outside the subway entrance handing out the AM New York is, but everyday the dude is like "AM New York?" and thrusts it in my path.
I know this good man is just trying to do his job, so I say "No thank you." However, if this is said at an audible level I couldn't really tell you, some days it's a mumble, some days it's said in my head and I think my lips moved. But there are some days when I actually enunciate and get the words out.
What's the worst part about the subway? Other than people, who may or may not fit in the open space sit down on the edge and slide ever so slowly until their backs are flush with the back of the seat and shimmy their shoulders so they push your shoulders just enough so that you're now shoulder to shoulder with them whether you like it or not, and yes, sometimes that is their elbow resting on your hip bone. But the worst is having to listen to inane conversations between people who yell across the cars or talk just a little too loudly, or even worse, high school kids.
I found myself in just this position one especially surly morning. These two girls had sat down on either side of me at Columbus Circle and I was like, please, please don't let them know each other and want to have a chat. And, of course they did.
I cursed the morning and widened my eyes in disbelief and contemplated whether or not the girls would be offended if I turned up my ipod. Then I decided, did I want to even move? No was the answer. I thought I'd be nice and not that person on the train that can't handle being in public, but of course I was still put off.
And that is when I heard it. The sweet vowel emphasis that is so different from the American version. And then the response had it too! My heart quickend and I was glad that I didn't turn up my music, if I did I wouldn't have been able to take the next 3 subway stops to determine where the accents came from.
My ear for accents has been retired since I've moved back from the UK, unfortunately. So I can't say where in England someone lives anymore and it takes a few vowels for me to determine Scottish vs Irish, if the brogue isn't too thick.
It's amazing the rate at which my mood changed as those young lasses chatted and how I was so intent on hearing a conversation, when mere minutes before I would have rather have died than heard the slightest peep. But I'll tell you this for free, being able to determine that one was Scottish and the other Irish made my geart fill with pride and just being sandwiched in between the Brisith Isles made me feel at home, and made the start of a great morning.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Come Hell or High Water, or a Blizzard CCFA will Come Through!
I'm pretty sure that's what the US postal service slogan meant, or the Pony Express, so why has CCFA determined to make it theirs? I'm not sure, but barring a declaration of a Sate of Emergency the 6-10 inches which threatens the city won't keep their doors closed. What about the people who live in Jersey and Long Island you ask? Not to mention Brooklyn and the other boroughs? Well they pretty much have a free pass. No real need to make their way in, but those who live in Manhattan?
Forget your free snow day but look forward to the steller snowball fight we're going to have in Madison Square Park!
I do have to admit that I am a little excited about that. Watch out on the snowballs that Des throws, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't put tiny rocks in there...I call her to be on my team!
Forget your free snow day but look forward to the steller snowball fight we're going to have in Madison Square Park!
I do have to admit that I am a little excited about that. Watch out on the snowballs that Des throws, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't put tiny rocks in there...I call her to be on my team!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
That's not my coat button on the floor of the subway!
Umm, turns out it was. When riding the subway one day I looked down after I had taken my seat and saw a button on the floor. I thought, oh poor sucker, it's a shame they lost their button. Wait, it's not mine, my coat has toggles on it. Whew! Sadly turns out, the cute bit on the back of my jacket doesn't have toggles, and is now missing a button and as such is limply hanging on by a mere button. Au revoir mon petite button, say hello to the safety pin that is now holding your place.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Fashionista
I'm not sure why this guy in my ward decides that he needs to dress like a pimp, especially in the middle of winter. I know we go to church in Harlem, but really, are we buying into perpetuating stereotypes to the point we do at church? I am glad that he feels comfortable with himself enough to sport the long coat with the fur collar and the zoot suit hat. The feather wasn't there today, but I'm sure he had it in his pocket.
Now, I'm sure you're going to say he's gay. But, I'll tell you this for free. No gay man would ever find himself dead in that outfit. It would be one thing if this were a single occurrence, however, the steady repetition of shoes and hats and jackets and the cut of his suits leads one to believe that dressing like a pimp is a learned habit. So now you're thinking, how do you see him every week and not laugh at the ensemble?? Well, it's tough. He always seems to catch my eye and I think, Oh look, there's a pimp walking down the street. Then I see his face, and I'm like oh, it's what's his name. A chuckle into my scarf and a shake of my head I head over for a quick hello. I'd give more details, but I'd like to protect the identity of the pimp that goes to my ward. And as a status as a pimp with the ladies, well that's not concurrent either.
Now, I'm sure you're going to say he's gay. But, I'll tell you this for free. No gay man would ever find himself dead in that outfit. It would be one thing if this were a single occurrence, however, the steady repetition of shoes and hats and jackets and the cut of his suits leads one to believe that dressing like a pimp is a learned habit. So now you're thinking, how do you see him every week and not laugh at the ensemble?? Well, it's tough. He always seems to catch my eye and I think, Oh look, there's a pimp walking down the street. Then I see his face, and I'm like oh, it's what's his name. A chuckle into my scarf and a shake of my head I head over for a quick hello. I'd give more details, but I'd like to protect the identity of the pimp that goes to my ward. And as a status as a pimp with the ladies, well that's not concurrent either.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Theres a bit of geek in all of us
I have a few favorite websites that I like to visit, and they're set up to give me highlights on my igoogle page. And here is just a glimpse why.
wikihow.com
A website full of useful information, anything and everything you've ever wanted to know how to do is there for you to read, watch a video, and try for yourself. The latest and greatest info it's given me was yesterday's post: How to gleek.
I know people generally learned how to gleek in jr high. But I could never get it down. So now, I have detailed instructions to finally learn how to do this fun party trick.
Well I came across this gem whilst at work so there I sat at my desk trying to gleek. Did I manage to finally learn the mechanics to achieve my lifelong dream?? Not as such. I think I actually hurt that gland that was supposed to secret to saliva because I was pushing too hard. Talk about no pain no gain.
wired.com
Now, I know what you're thinking. This is a geek magazine where it talks about programing and building better faster computers and bragging about what systems they have been able to hack. Well I'm here to open your eyes to this online magazine. It's full of information on very interesting things, does it deal a little with programming? Sure, but I don't read those articles. Not to mention the articles sometimes come out of left field and are funnier putting peanut butter on the end of a dog's nose and watching them lick it off. Case in point. Today there was an article that talked about traffic tickets in Switzerland. I don't recall the title but it said the fine was $250,000. I don't know about you, but I'm vair vair interested in finding out what traffic violation costs that much. Turns out this dude flew through some small town in his Ferrari topping the speed limit by 35 kph. Now first, you're an idiot for bringing that much attention to yourself and second, wait for it, traffic tickets are based off of a % of your pay grade. So he booked a $90,000 ticket. Then had the audacity to claim diplomatic immunity. To which the court fined him and now the ticket is $250,000. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Idiot. I'm sure he had the $90,000 in his wallet. In the end the law isn't as cold and hard as they come out to be. He has to pay half of the fine and the rest will be forgiven for good behavior.
Now, who would have thought this was in Wired??
wikihow.com
A website full of useful information, anything and everything you've ever wanted to know how to do is there for you to read, watch a video, and try for yourself. The latest and greatest info it's given me was yesterday's post: How to gleek.
I know people generally learned how to gleek in jr high. But I could never get it down. So now, I have detailed instructions to finally learn how to do this fun party trick.
Well I came across this gem whilst at work so there I sat at my desk trying to gleek. Did I manage to finally learn the mechanics to achieve my lifelong dream?? Not as such. I think I actually hurt that gland that was supposed to secret to saliva because I was pushing too hard. Talk about no pain no gain.
wired.com
Now, I know what you're thinking. This is a geek magazine where it talks about programing and building better faster computers and bragging about what systems they have been able to hack. Well I'm here to open your eyes to this online magazine. It's full of information on very interesting things, does it deal a little with programming? Sure, but I don't read those articles. Not to mention the articles sometimes come out of left field and are funnier putting peanut butter on the end of a dog's nose and watching them lick it off. Case in point. Today there was an article that talked about traffic tickets in Switzerland. I don't recall the title but it said the fine was $250,000. I don't know about you, but I'm vair vair interested in finding out what traffic violation costs that much. Turns out this dude flew through some small town in his Ferrari topping the speed limit by 35 kph. Now first, you're an idiot for bringing that much attention to yourself and second, wait for it, traffic tickets are based off of a % of your pay grade. So he booked a $90,000 ticket. Then had the audacity to claim diplomatic immunity. To which the court fined him and now the ticket is $250,000. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Idiot. I'm sure he had the $90,000 in his wallet. In the end the law isn't as cold and hard as they come out to be. He has to pay half of the fine and the rest will be forgiven for good behavior.
Now, who would have thought this was in Wired??
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