There's something profoundly different between taking the subway home
right after work and taking the train home after happy hour. No, its
not that the trains are less crowded--it's that they're crowded with
drunk crazies.
Tonight was just ironic because there was a drunk and psychotic woman
on the train, talking to herself, cursing at random people--the usual.
And another woman comes on and starts talking to me about how this
woman is talking to herself and how she would never think to bother
people on the train like that.
Over the next 7 stops we talked about how she just sleeps on the train
when she's drunk (but never by sprawling out on the seat), how she
always wears a sweater as soon as she gets cold (tonight it was a
large american flag sweater), then she started speculating about what
would happen if the cops came and saw this woman drinking her beer and
spouting the f-bomb...She naturally transitioned to talking about
police brutality... We shared memories of Abner Louima and she quizzed
me on whether I remembered if the cop who initiated a recent incident
was black or white. Good times.
Apparently there was a recent incident where police killed a deaf,
mute, machete-weilding dude. She thought the cops should have called a
translator for backup before using force against him. Interesting
idea, but who am I to judge? Haha.
Anyways, made for a fun ride. I always like talking to randoms,
especially strange ones because it makes for a good story and you
never know just how lonely someone is and how helpful you're being by
being friendly. Maybe laughing with and being interested in what this
woman had to say was the kind of interaction she needed, or maybe
talking about other people's problems made her feel better about her
own. I guess that's not unique -- I suppose we all look for that type
of fleeting companionship/validation every now and then.
right after work and taking the train home after happy hour. No, its
not that the trains are less crowded--it's that they're crowded with
drunk crazies.
Tonight was just ironic because there was a drunk and psychotic woman
on the train, talking to herself, cursing at random people--the usual.
And another woman comes on and starts talking to me about how this
woman is talking to herself and how she would never think to bother
people on the train like that.
Over the next 7 stops we talked about how she just sleeps on the train
when she's drunk (but never by sprawling out on the seat), how she
always wears a sweater as soon as she gets cold (tonight it was a
large american flag sweater), then she started speculating about what
would happen if the cops came and saw this woman drinking her beer and
spouting the f-bomb...She naturally transitioned to talking about
police brutality... We shared memories of Abner Louima and she quizzed
me on whether I remembered if the cop who initiated a recent incident
was black or white. Good times.
Apparently there was a recent incident where police killed a deaf,
mute, machete-weilding dude. She thought the cops should have called a
translator for backup before using force against him. Interesting
idea, but who am I to judge? Haha.
Anyways, made for a fun ride. I always like talking to randoms,
especially strange ones because it makes for a good story and you
never know just how lonely someone is and how helpful you're being by
being friendly. Maybe laughing with and being interested in what this
woman had to say was the kind of interaction she needed, or maybe
talking about other people's problems made her feel better about her
own. I guess that's not unique -- I suppose we all look for that type
of fleeting companionship/validation every now and then.
3 comments:
bah...why does this look like a poem?
Haha it does look like a poem.
Psychotic people are great. ;)
the machete-mute had just behead his seat-mate on a bus and proceed to parade up and down the aisle with the severed head... it may have been a little too late for an interpreter
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