Could it get any worse?

Little did I realize that the calamity of yesterday was but the tip of the iceberg!
Actually I didn't get lost but adventures on mass transit continued.
I got my head together from yesterday's misfortune and armed with my map of New York City- a little spiral bound book the size of a paperback- useful but nowhere near as good as a Melways but much smaller, I headed for Brooklyn again!
The A train goes express from 42nd St and although it means a walk to 42nd St I'd rather that than take the C and change at 42nd as I also need to change back to the C at Uttica in Brooklyn. Off I head to 42nd St and onto the correct platform where they announce that the next C train won't be coming for 20minutes due to "an earlier incident on the C". My thought initially was "glad I walked to 42nd rather than try to get the train." My next thought... "Glad I bought the map so I can work out where to walk from one of the express stops." None of the thoughts that went through my head encompassed the train ride I experienced.
The A train arrives and it is packed and became more packed as we all tried to get on. I did the first part of the journey standing (strap hanging) stretched in many directions as I held on to the overhead bar with one hand and my work bag with the other. Eventually I able to turn around and hold the lower pole but that had me face to face with some largish bloke who seemed to be giving off a rather fruity aroma and was sining something to himself while keeping his eyes closed. At the next stop he got off and then the woman further up the carriage started her shouting either complaining about people crowding her or worried where her friend was. Her friend shouted back to her from the other end of the carriage reassuring her he was there. I wished he'd ask her to keep quiet especially when she yelled at the conductor to "Shut the f***ing doors for f***k sake!" Finally I got to sit down and try to retreat into my book but the fruity aroma pervaded the carriage again and I'd realized the largish bloke was only guilty of singing to himself not the fruity aroma. The fruity aroma was coming from the homeless guy in the corner seat who had been out of my sight (but not my nostrils) due to the crowd in the train. The shouting woman was still on the train and manged to locate her friend. She decided she needed more space and was too hot so she moved down the end of the carriage and started peeling off layers of clothes stopping at her t-shirt. She then said in a very loud voice "It stinks down here" needless to say she had try to set up camp opposite the guy with the fruity aroma. She heads back down to near me and sits on opposite side of the carriage from her friend carrying on a rather loud conversation which included such interesting snippets as "I took my medication before I came out!" and "We just have to get the papers signed and can head back home after that". Two very tightlipped women were making a note of the carriage number- not sure who or what they were going to report. Shortly after I noticed that the fruity aroma had been replaced by the smell of cigarettes. Our homeless guy had started a cigarette- interesting how the carcenogens were preferable to the smell of the great unwashed.
The A train was running "local" until after my stop. It had been stopping at all stops for a while before the shouter realized. I didn't have to resort to the map or to trying to change to the nonexistent C.
It was a very slow ride but entertaining!