Penn Station at midnight on a Friday night is a bizarre and creepy world. Sat down on the A train across from a man jabbering about how he could take a guy out with just his scarf, or take 3 guys out, or 4 if he had a pistol. He liked my long socks, and switched between commenting on them and threatening to kill people with his scarf. When he left, a stout woman in a brown vellure jumpsuit and slippers got on, started pole dancing in front of me, and walking back and forth shouting "white girls, white girls, white girls" (I was the only one.) Then she sat down right next to me and said "I tried to draw you. But I skipped fifth grade so it didn't work. But I tried to draw you - see?" She showed me a pen. No paper.
"That's nice," I said noncommittally, trying not to engage or be rude.
"ISN'T it? See, I'm polite."
"Yes... that's nice."
"Yes, that IS nice."
Then she paced through the rest of the car, came back and sat next to me again, kicked my backpack, talked to me some more, threw a penny at my face, and walked off.
Nice welcome back to the city....
"That's nice," I said noncommittally, trying not to engage or be rude.
"ISN'T it? See, I'm polite."
"Yes... that's nice."
"Yes, that IS nice."
Then she paced through the rest of the car, came back and sat next to me again, kicked my backpack, talked to me some more, threw a penny at my face, and walked off.
Nice welcome back to the city....
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
viatornauta:
I think those experiences are part of the fabric of our life, and make it that much more interesting.
thirty3:
Glad I live in the Midwest and not New York.