Only in America, part XXVII

Last night I was on the train coming back to NJ (that majestic land across the sea, and by sea I mean "the Delaware river" and by majestic I mean "no actually it rather sucks") after an evening on the town with a friend.

We sat down towards the front of the car, with one seat in front of us. In that seat was Some Annoying Guy (SAG), wearing a white hoodie and listening to music on his phone without the benefit of headphones. I hate when people do that, and, at one point, when he started rapping along with it, I almost politely asked him to shut the hell up. For whatever reason, though, I didn't.

SAG stood as we approached his stop, and there was a loud thunk and that slight skittering noise - you know, you drop something, part of it goes sliding across the floor. I assumed he maybe dropped...I don't know, his phone, or a PSP or something. He's searching basically under our seat for whatever it is that tried to escape.

Victorious, SAG stands up, and the dude is holding a gun.

As in, he dropped a gun. On the train. Right next to me.

On average, I'd say I made two journeys on public transportation every day in London. I was in London for six months; that's about three hundred some trips. Know how often I saw a gun? Maybe four or five times, always firmly attached to police.

The first time I take the train back in the States? Someone drops a gun beneath my seat.

If you're going to be an idiot and carry a gun around, would you please have enough courtesy to carry the thing and not throw it around? Thanks.