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The best “crazy guy on a train” experience I ever had
I had the most fascinating subway experience today. Terrifying, but fascinating.
I walk on the A train at 59th, and I have to stand against the connecting doors by this Hispanic man who’s slumped back in someone’s arms, his knees taking up the entire aisle I’m attempting to occupy, clearly drunk. But whatever, he’s quiet.
And then the doors close, and I realize too late that there’s a man by the door who’s yelling. He’s Black, probably around 30, the same age as the Hispanic guy, I’d guess.
Probably, I’d agree with everything the Black man was saying, if he wasn’t screaming it. About the ‘system’; ‘masters and slaves’; real That Funny Feeling stuff.
All this concealed agreement was overshadowed when he said something about “…terrorist attack.” Something about “we’re gonna blow it up.”
Okay, not great. Not loving that, in the long, long, unstopping trip from 59th street to 125th street.
His lady friend (genders and pronouns assumed for the purpose of telling a story fluently) is sitting next to him, smoking a joint, quietly. She never talks for the duration of the ride, nor does the woman the Hispanic man is with. That tells you something about straight people, I’d reckon.
