Here I am, headed in late to work on a Friday. Not just late. I'm talkin' 2pm late. Who does that? Apparently, I do, since I had to wait for a furniture delivery that was supposed to come at 10am. Of course it came after 1. So I board the train at 135th Street, the #3 train to Wall Street. I've read the paper already, so it's just me observing the masses as they hop on and off the 7th Avenue express.

**Quick note that belies that last sentence: If it's the 7th Avenue express, and I live on 7th Avenue, why do I have to walk to Lenox (aka 6th Ave) to catch the train? Hmmmm....Moving on.

A few things on the ride downtown made me wonder what its gonna be like when I get older. A black gentleman, probably in his 60s, boarded at 116th Street. He was dressed sharp, complete with derby, button down shirt, slacks and briefcase. Picture James Earl Jones without the bass in his voice. He thanked the gentleman to my right for sliding over so he could sit, and pulled out his New York Times.

And I thought...that's how I wanna be when I get older--cool, calm, polite and well-read.

At 42nd Street, an older white gentleman came on and stood by the closing doors of which you're supposed to stand clear. He was bald, wore a nice shirt and some Timberland shoes. Picture Uncle Junior from The Sopranos. He seemed alright--until I observed more closely. Turns out ole dude had on some Dockers. Pretty smooth, especially with the Timbs, right? Well, not so much. His Dockers...had a drawstring. A DRAWSTRING where the belt was supposed to be. HUH?!?!? I've never seen that before. Regular looking pants, Docker-ish, but with a drawstring. I was bamfuffled.

So I stared for a second, then glanced up to his face again...and he was nodding his head in no particular direction as if in agreement with someone. He mumbled some words and then nodded again. This IS New York, so I tried to look in the direction he was looking...wasn't nobody there. Yup. Old dude was crazy. Just like Uncle Junior. I swear, after seeing that, plus the drawstring, if he woulda started singing some arias, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least.

Pretty full first entry, huh? That's what I say. In the words of the late night salesman who hawks the ginsu knife collection, "But wait...there's more!!!"

Picture it...96th Street. White people nirvana. It's Pleasantville up in that piece. There were, count 'em, SIX stops where anything coulda happened that most black people would've laughed off, dismissed the antics as one of their own showin' their ass and moved on.

In a perfect world, it would've happened that way. It should've still happened that way. Get it out of his system before we reach Vanilla Lane. But no. Once again, antics by an unbalanced black man gave people--black and white--reason to shake their heads, hide behind magazines and clutch their purses. Let's call him Sweat-T.

Why Sweat-T? Because he had on some tight sweats and a dirty tee shirt. That's all. LOL Well, T, in all of his lopsided logic, decided that 96th Street was the perfect time to test the moves he learned while watching this week's episode of Smallville. Yup. He proceeded, as if on mentally melted down cue, to rip his jacket open and "fly" through the car.

Lemme repeats me-self. T, in the middle of mixed company, showed the big ASS on his chest, flapping his arms as if he was about to take flight and making the airplane noise that usually.accompanies.such.nonsense. And me? What did I do? Well, I did what any other black person should've done at that moment: prayed that T stayed away from me and would "fly" his ass outta the car.

What, did you expect me to get up and apologize on behalf of Clark Mental? Tap dance to offset his erratic exhibition? Maybe fly alongside him and make it seem like we were re-enacting a scene from Peter Pan? NOPE. Not me. I clutched my butter knife and wish a muhfucka would come near me and ask me to join him in fighting imaginary subway crimes. LOL

Maybe it was the sight of Vanilla Lane that sparked his synapse collapse. Maybe that's his kryptonite. LOL All I know is two things--he shoulda got that out of his system sooner AND I cannot make these things up. Lawd.

I think...I might have to start taking the bus. One day into this journal and I'm already realizing that these.people.are.crazy. I'm fried.


posted by Will at 5:24 PM
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Blogger Yolie commented at November 19, 2004 at 4:41 PM~  

That was too daggoned funny. And you'd better put the butter knife away before you hurt yourself. LOL

Blogger Elle commented at November 20, 2004 at 9:45 AM~  

Synapse collapse.....that's cute. I'mma have to use that!

Nothing even remotely exciting happens on the Baltimore "subway" system. Consider yourself fortunate.

Blogger Zantiferous3 commented at December 1, 2004 at 11:49 AM~  

Awww... that makes me homesick. All these damn NYC bloggers!!! BOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Oh and I'm mad/jealous you live in the HEART of Harlem. *sigh* Though after living on the East Side all my life, I can't imagine taking a "red line" train. Hmmph. Green all the way for me.

But back to you - ROFLMAO laughing at Sweat-T. That's so damned embarrassing. I know what you mean... but don't feel bad - they DAMN sure have THEIR share too!!! are a hot mess.

I'm mad you said this: In the words of the late night salesman who hawks the ginsu knife collection, "But wait...there's more!!!" LOL I say that ALL the time.

I usually say it like this though: *in my best Ginsu Knife Salesman voice* But WAIT there's MORE!!! LOL That's hilarious. I think it's even in one of my archived posts. LOL

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The ournal

Here is where I will blog my daily travails on the New York City subway system...Something I'm dubbing The Homeboy Journals.

bout Me

Will.Writer.Live from Harlem.Lefty.Thoughtful.Determined to figure out life.One day.Rambling into reality in the meantime...


November 2004
December 2004
January 2005

logs I Read

Random Things About Me
The Black New Yorker
Wildly Sophisticated
The Brutha Code
Singing Chick
Brown Shuga
The Kajuana Show

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