Howard Beach is for lovers.

I'm poor, so when I go to LA, I take whichever cheap flight I can find, and this time it was from JFK. Last Friday. I took the A Train from Harlem to Howard Beach, then hopped onto the shiny new sky train. Why do I never learn? Flying from LaGuardia is so much easier, just hop the m-60 bus from 125th in Harlem, and poof you're there. The flight from JFK was cheaper though, so I grabbed it.

The announcements on the SkyTrain weren't working, so I missed my stop and began going around another loop, since the dumb thing doesn't operate with the uptown/downtown logic of the NYC subway system. There was a ride attendant to whom I complained, but all that really did was raise my ire, since he began to insult me for not planning for a timely airport arrival, which would have ensured a smooth check-in. I didn't think I was going to be spinning in circles on the sky train for a half hour in the wrong direction though.

Do I need to be insulted by an aggressive, toothless Sky Train Attendant with body odor? No. I don't. Trapped in this tense moment, I began getting flushed. Just then, a skate boarder dude complimented me on my Louis Vuitton suitcases. “Nice bags,” he said. “What’s your cock like?”

I hopped off the SkyTrain at the Delta terminal and fucked the skateboarder in a broom closet, which was kind of nice, because it helped me forget about the stinky Sky Train Attendant, but what I’d really like to do is forget that Queens even exists.

We'd be much better off without it, you know.