Eggs Benedict, three large slices of honey dew melon, a tall glass of grape juice and one cup of french roasted coffee.

By CARY WALDMAN

I have witnessed a lot of crazy, unbelievable things while riding New York City’s mass transit subway system.

I’ve had two middle-aged women collapse and fall violently onto train platforms — Jamaica in Queens and Columbus Circle in Manhattan — from seizures, right in front of my very eyes.

I was the first responder on hand for both, asked them if I could help, then rolled them on their sides until EMS workers arrived. The first one was a very large Hispanic lady, who started profusely cursing at me in Spanish after she regained consciousness.

I have watched in horror as two gangs of teenagers, mostly girls, from rival high schools wailed away at each other in a scary brawl at a station in Fort Greene in Brooklyn.

I tried to assist the lone police officer initially on the scene, then, without hesitation, bolted for the nearest exit when knifes came out and an onslaught of hard-charging policeman came to his aid.

I have seen inebriated alcoholics and stoned-out-of-their minds drug addicts, shake, scratch, puke and crap on themselves.

I’ve had two women violently swing umbrellas at each other because one lady stepped on the other’s toes in a crowded A train headed to Far Rockaway on a snow-storm driven night.

I’ve enjoyed listening to all the awesome musicians, singers, poets, actors and comedians who will preform on the trains and at their strategically located platforms for some pocket change to put a roof over their head and food on their table.

I have also been freaked out by the countless number of schizophrenics who hold intense conversations with themselves, acting as if no one else was on the train with them, lost in space. Very sad!!!!

I have seen couples — straight, gay and occasionally to-hard-to-tell – having promiscuous encounters in plain sight of children.

I have watched dozens of gate jumpers get caught by plain-clothes officers for not paying their fares.

On Sunday, I witnessed another bizarre chapter on my MTA magic carpet ride, and it was downright hilarious.

Men and women, young and old, gorgeous and not-so-gorgeous, skinny and super chunky, riding the F training in their underwear.

That’s correct.

In there undies.

My jaw dropped, then quickly focused in on a few of the awesome coeds standing in front of me with really-exposed, solid-as-a-rock, curvaceous rumps, who smiled away at the crowd of men circling them.

I didn’t know what to make of this.

As it turned out, it is an annual event here and there and now almost everywhere.

The “No Pants Subway Ride” is an annual January showcase event staged by Improv Everywhere.

The goofy mission started as a small prank with seven guys and has grown into an international celebration of silliness, with dozens of cities around the world participating each year.

The idea behind No Pants is simple: Random passengers board a subway car at separate stops in the middle of winter without pants.

The participants do not behave as if they know each other, and they all wear winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves.

The only unusual thing is their lack of pants.

Only in New York, right!!!

For the tenth annual No Pants Subway Ride yesterday, an estimated 3,500 people participated in New York and thousands more in 48 cities across the globe.

Ahhhh, I love New York!!!!

Pants or no pants!!!!

For a one-way fare of $.2.25, see what you can get when you ride the MTA.

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