subways

This time last week, around 1AM, I was coming back from a truly bizarre gig. on one side of the train over the bridge to Brooklyn, a slouching, smirking, baggy jeaned blonde 20-something guy who could have passed as a drug dealer or a surf bum yells at a tidy, quiet girl wearing a South Africa hoodie. "You from South Africa?" She's noticably startled and bristles back "sort of." He takes her in, and nods in her direction "I studied over there. Ethnofilmmaking." The tenson dissipates, and he leads a chatty conversation. At one point he pats on the seat next to him "come sit here!" She refuses, he continues a schpeel about where he's from, halfway across the car. When he mentions California, I yell "I'm from San Diego!". He smiles at me and says "this is why you have loud conversations on the train." Before I leave he yells "Represent, Diego!"

Tonight, a pile of drunk friends from some outer city, not here, are trying to figure out where the late night 2 and 3 trains are bound. One guy gets off at 42nd st, and another friend commiserates to the ringleader "you better watch after your friend, he doesn't know where he's going." The ringleader points at the girl next to him "she doesn't know where she is. That's worse than not knowing where you're going." He looks at me for approval. "Poetically speaking, yes." He looks triumphant.


And other things we do on the subway.