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Staccato on a Metrorail Green Line train, mid-afternoon on the return commute
Black guy with long braids and shades gets on the Metrorail Green Line train to Greenbelt yesterday at around 3:30. Appears to have a need to show off to the entire car full of passengers, his voice at a feverish pitch, quick and sharp, staccato, cutting through my reverie and my futile attempts to enjoy a leisurely read through my current book.
"Who needs a wife? Fuck a wife! I'm a bachelor for life! I'm a bachelor for life! (10 times over until I thought he'd never stop)."
Okay, okay, we get the point, I think.
And then, "I'm the reason you threw away our dildo..."
I wondered if this string of rhyme was a creation of his own or a song he had piping through the headphones.
I guess he tired of ranting or got off the train.
There was a sudden lightening of the mood.
When he was there, it was like everything else around me stopped as people shifted uncomfortably, sat out the interminable end of his tirade or glanced knowingly at one another, most of them annoyed and wanting silence or space for conversation.
I have nothing against rap or hip-hop. I used to listen to groups like Naughty By Nature all the time, over a decade ago before my musical tastes hit one of many areas of metamorphosis in my life. I'm not even offended by curse words, hardly notice them. Heck, I say them myself, a bit more than I should. But what seemed to bother me was that his voice, the vibrations, this negativity in the air, was almost palpable, as if it took charge of the air around me, the space in which I enjoyed a brief respite. His vocality took that away from me, shook me to the core.
I'm all for freedom of speech and diversity, but when you are squeezed together and having to coexist with others in a speeding tin can, an onslaught of words such as this seems to be suffocating, and the situation calls for some understanding of noise pollution.
Of course, I know it also calls for me, the newcomer, to develop more of that thick urbanite skin, that ability to shrug off what's antagonistic and be more aloof, unconcerned and just accept the way of my new life.
One person's art is another person's villainous verbosity.
Jen
Comments
good to see you again!
The best was the time this woman got on in downtown DC, the Orange line train to New Carrollton. Didn't take long to notice she seemed out of it, not to mention one boob was hanging out of her halter top.
As is custom, everyone tried not to look and mind their own business. She was talking to herself and I was trying to figure if she was retarded or on drugs.
After a while she started asking people when train stopped at a station if it were the Baltimore station. People ignored her as they exited. I was getting worried for her. She obviously was too out of it to realize she was on a Metro train that ended its run in the DC suburbs, 30 miles short of Baltimore.
At New Carrollton, I guess she noticed everyone was getting off 'cause she exited too. She asked people if this was Baltimore but the moved on. Feeling sorry for her, I told her this wasn't Baltimore but I would try to help find transportation there.
Luckily, the New Carrollton station shares space with a MARC commuter train stop. I knew there was a MARC to Baltimore or least close to Baltimore.
First problem was getting her through the turnstile. She was holding her farecard in her hand--completely crumpled up. I tried to persuade the Metro employees to let her through, showing them the card as proof that she did at least buy a farecard. I didn't have anything smaller than a $20 so I couldn't just buy her a new one.
So we begged. Finally someone gave me enough money to buy a farecard. We exited and walked over to the MARC station.
I asked for a ticket for the next train to Baltimore. The fare was $6, so I figured I buy the ticket as a charitable act. (She didn't have any money.)
Pulled out my $20, and was told sorry, sir, after 6 pm we don't give change. I explained the situation to no avail.
I really didn't want to pay $20 for a $6 ticket so we were back to begging strangers for change. We weren't haven't any luck when this woman said to me, "You look like you have some money, why don't you take me to dinner?"
What? Okay, apparently I'm more worried about getting her home than she is. No, I said, we have to get you Baltimore. Unless you have some other place near here you can go.
Her reply: "I bet if I gave you a blowjob you'd give me that $20."
Alright, that was enough playing Saint Francis for me. I said, "Look over there," pointing behind her. She looked and I scampered up the escalator.
My wife was already parked and waiting. I jumped and said, "Hurry, let's go. I explain later."
Never found out what happened to that woman.
Postscript: I told this sorry to some of my family one night when we eating dinner at my Mom's, on her screened-in porch. After I finished the story, I started taking dishes into the kitchen.
Later, my sister told me that when I was in the kitchen, my Mom (a strict Catholic) asked: "What's a blowjob?"