25 August 2006
3:45 PM
Manhattan Bound A Train
As I moved from the standing only F train to the packed A train I scanned my surroundings for a place to sit. I saw two men who had their legs sprawled out and I almost couldn't tell that there was an empty seat between them. And so I asked, "May I sit?" and they made room for me. This desire to rest my weary legs brought me more than just physically close to my A train neighbors. Now suddenly, I'm either subjected to or included in (I'm still unsure) a very personal conversation. I hold my Douglas Coupland book jPod and attempt to read but my attention is stolen.
Loud & Brash New Yorker: "I banged Becky, and Curt don't even know."
Quiet but Curious New Yorker: "Yeh!"
Loud & Brash New Yorker: "Yeh! She was all pissed and shit because Curt was grabbin' her ass and titties and shit and she don't like that."
I pondered Becky and Curt. Well, Curt is easy. He's probably not too sharp. He thinks that a woman should be flattered when he grabs their "ass and titties". He thinks he's smooth. I imagine he's something like a man I once worked with who said that I looked slutty in my sleeveless summer tank and couldn't understand why I didn't take that as a compliment. Idiot. Becky, I imagine, is not so smart either, but at least she knows that having her ass and titties grabbed is not acceptable behavior. Loud & Brash is just that. No manners in the company of women. How do these people not know that it's truly rude to speak that way in front of a woman? He is either clueless or he really wants as many people as possible to know that he banged Becky. So everyone, now you know.
26 August 2006
12:15AM
Brooklyn bound F Train
I desire quiet because I've just left work. I know that this wish is unrealistic for a Friday night. Riding the subway at this hour on the weekends is simply loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. People play their video games with the volume on LOUD. People who've had a bit too much alcohol speak LOUDLY. It's just loud. Just accept it. I generally try to tune it out, knowing that it's just a matter of time before I'm home. Whatever that means at this point. What I really mean is someone else's home. The kind someone, who is lending me his floor. I digress.
So, I knew better before I hopped on the last train car because I could see the party streamers and balloons and a crowd of joyful travelers but the adventurer in me was intuitive enough to realize that this was most likely about to be an enjoyable New York moment.
There were musicians playing acoustic Green Day. Early 20-somethings decked out in various paper birthday hats and tiaras, sang along and drank alcohol out of mini water bottles. Everyone around seemed to enjoy observing. They were happy and loving life. Each person who entered the train received a warm hello and a handful of confetti. It was nice and it made me smile.