No security on a trainwhatsoever.
You could walk on a trainwith three suitcasesfull of cocaine,
like, hey, if you see something,say something.
This is how sad and desperatetrains are:
trains don't ask to see yourticket until the train has leftthe station, right?
They've already started movingand then they ask.
How much of a fuckcould they really give?
"Tickets, please.""I don't have one."
"Well, you gotta buy one now."
"I don't have any money."
"We'll figure it out."
"Enjoy Newark.All right, yeah."
I just hate flying.They've ruined it.
It's so nerve-racking.Every flight's an anxietyattack, you know?
Every time I have a flight,I feel like it's my first dayof class all over again.
I'm eight years old,I'm back at school, you know?
You're on that plane,single-file line,book bag on,
just trying to find your seat,you know?
Then you finallyget your seat,
people pull out snacksand start farting.
Right? Yeah? Right?
And the flight attendant,she's terrifying.
She's likethe teacher, you know?
She's kind of hovering,she's nerve-- she scares you.
As she walks by,
you hide your phone, pretendlike you're reading.
Now she gives you a littlelecture: hey, seat belt,seat belt, you know?
And the pilot,he's like the principal.
He's up in his office, comes onthe loudspeaker, you know?
Right? You don't reallywant to meet him,
but you know if you do,you're in trouble.
Right? All right?
And you're like,all right, I gotta pee.
You can't pee now.I'm 32 years old.
It's not pee time.Sit down!
Good lord.Now you're pissed.
Now you're just waiting it out.Oh, my God.
Just like class.How much longer,how much longer.
Jesus Christ, you're countingthe minutes.
Then the plane lands,the bell rings,you grab your stuff,
you fight your waythrough the building,you find your mom,
she drives you home.