Waiting for the F train to come on a very hot platform on this Labor Day...next to me is a beautiful Russian mother with a great tan that I would kill for, and her four year old son who has bright blonde hair and a buzz cut and the largest ears I've ever seen.
After 20 minutes.
Son: Where's the F train? I hate the F train!
Beautiful mother trying to placate him: Maybe F stands for Fantasy, yes? Because the F train will not come. F stands for Fantasy!
Son: F stands for Poop!
Beautiful mother: No, that is a 'P'.
Son: F stands for Vomit!
Beautiful mother: No, that is a 'V'.
Son: Well F stands for something stupid.
Beautiful mother: F train stands for something else, maybe? Something that you're not supposed to say. Something that starts with an 'F' and is four letters long and is something your body does. Hmm?
Son: Fuck! It's the Fuck train!
(At this point I have to leave because I'm laughing so hard. But apparently she was trying to get him to say it was the "Fart Train".)