The Brain Hemorrhage

Setting: 2 train headed downton from Times Sq
Who: Two White middle age guys

When I switched to the express train from the local, I knew it was going to be packed. Times Sq. itself is a mess but the subway station is equally chaotic (except there aren't potentially lethal amounts of light emanating from every direction).

I squeezed into the express car and was fortunate enough to be near two gentleman, apparently friends, already deep into conversation. For the story, I will be refering to them as Larry and Doug

Larry: "Yeah, so I was talking to my buddy the other day about the holiday party"

Doug: "Oh yeah? What he say?"

Larry:"Well, he said last year he got pretty drunk and it wasn't too bad"

Doug:"I don't think I'll be going to my company's party this year. Although getting away from the wife and kids would be nice"

Larry:"He said there was this one drink at the party that was crazy."

Doug:"Oh yeah, you didn't go last year because you were sick.

Larry:"Nope."

Doug:"What is the drink"

Larry: "Well, I don't remember everything he said that goes in it but its some type of gin, tripple sec, maybe some vodka, and then something green...its called a brain hemorrhage"

(Doug laughs)

Larry: "Sounds like a good time. I'm going to try it."

Does it sound like a good time? Sounds like a diaster in a glass. Look Larry, I don't think thing best thing to do, at any time, is to have a drink called THE BRAIN HEMORRHAGE; especially at your holiday party that (it sounds like) you are attending for the first time. I would suggest sticking to beer but it seems you have been doing that every night for the last ten years.

And for Doug: would it really be more exciting to go to a place you don't want to be just to ditch your family for a few hours? If so, I think therapy should be in your future. See if your HMO covers that one.


Is that what one gets excited about in the 40's? Having a drink that sounds like it could literally kill you or go to a place where it sounds like you won't enjoy yourself just to lose the family for a bit?

What's more is that I cannot imagine this conversation happening between males from another country? Can you picture two Italians engaging in a conversation about a drink called a "brain hemorrhage"?

Just like Don King said: Only in America

One Man Show

Setting: Brooklyn bound 2 Train.

Who: Black guy sitting by himself.

Everybody has experienced panhandlers at some point in their lives. Sometimes on the street, sometimes while driving and stopped at a red light, and, most often, on public transportation.

As I stepped into the subway car at 14th st headed for Wall St. I looked around for an open seat. As there were several folks standing I assumed I was out of luck. But, to my surprise, there was a stretch of three seats that were vacant with the fourth being occupied by a semi- regular looking guy eating something.

Now, it is always a bad sign when there are so many open seats and nobody is taking them. At the end of the day one wants nothing more than to grab a seat so either this guy smells horrendous or is crazy; or both!

As I took my position to stand (diagonal from him, the better to observe and get my fists up if something goes down) I noticed one of the more stranger things I have ever seen: this man was eating salad out of Tupperware. I never would have imagined someone eating salad on the subway let alone this guy. I knew something was off with him. But, the kicker was that this salad was drenched in dressing. It looked more like he was eating dressing with salad in it. As he would get a spoonful (yes, a spoon. Plastic) it would spill a little as he brought it to his mouth. It was practically unavoidable what with the driver doing 50 and such a long distance for the spoon to travel.

After a bout 30 seconds of being on the train he justified the reason nobody was choosing to sit next to him. This man busted out into one of, if not the best monologues/rap sessions I have ever witnessed. What is written below is the exact words that came out of his mouth. As he was speaking I took out my phone and created a text message that I would save to my drafts.

(The man puts away his salad and begins speaking to himself as he stands up and walks slowly through the train...)

"Zim to the zam. Talk a week straight. (gargling noises). Check it out-ba-ba-boo. (laughing) We can disconfuse. Deck mm man back oh you get checked then you get f*cked up. Into the ram, slam, take that back to queens, oh oh flex-mex-tex-bex, gonna hit the clown, bex mmm ha. Ting. How you gon be a motherf*ckin city for 24hrs..."

Then he got off the train and hit the window as we drove away.

I think the Academy should be notified.

Choices

Setting: Jamaican restaurant, Brooklyn.

Who: Two mid 40 year old black ladies and a Hispanic employee behind the counter.

One of my go to spots to eat is a small Jamaican "restaurant" in Brooklyn. Its more of a taqueria- you order at the counter and you either sit down in the small space to eat or take it to go. No waiter service.

I had been eating for a few minutes when two friends came in to eat. They had been there before and ordered right as they got to the counter.

Friend A: "Let me get two chicken patties"

Friend B: "I'll get a piece of fried chicken and one beef patty"

As the server went over to the area with the fried chicken, the one woman who ordered it followed him. He took the tongs and selected a piece but before he could put it in the bag the lady protested.

Friend B: "No, no. I don't want that piece. Let me see what else there is" At this point her finger is touching the sneeze guard as she directs him to dig through the pile of chicken. It was a real life puppet session but instead of dolls and strings in front an audience we had a black woman dictating to a Hispanic man about which piece of fried chicken would fatten her up the most. Once she settled on a piece to her liking the server went back to the area where the patties were.

After he placed the beef one in the bag for Friend B, Friend A interjected once her chicken patties were on the verge of being placed in her bag.

Friend A: "Its all burnt. Damn, I don't want that one. Let me get one that you ain't burnt."

Come on now. It was not burnt. The crust had some areas that were a golden brown instead of the yellow that normally encompasses the ground chicken. Actually, a little "burntness" is tasty. Like with mac and cheese or with good bread and a hot sandwich. After the server got her two patties that were up to her liking, the ladies paid and sat down.

Friend A: "Trying to give me some burnt shit."

Friend B: "I know. And like I wanted that tiny ass piece of chicken. I want a real piece!"

I could be wrong but the second piece of chicken Friend B was given would perhaps result in one more bite of meat while Friend A's chicken patties were to the untrained eye, no different from the first.

But, these are professionals. Professional get-the-most-out-of-my-five-dollar-meal-I-want-good-size-fried chicken-and-not-burnt-patties professionals.

Nobody was out to cheat these women but they took their servings personal. There is a right way to ask for something and a wrong. Although it seems that you can get away with it by asking the wrong way as evidenced by these two friends...

In karma, we trust.

Three Cops

Setting: Subway Platform. Q Train.

Who: Three Black Cops. Two Males. One Female.

Waiting for the subway on the platform is really nothing to write home about. There are usually about ten total spots on benches for people to sit (although rumor has it that bed bugs make shop in those so no thank you). As one usually has to stand and should be on their guard while waiting, the platform provides ample opportunity to observe others.

Due to heighten and constant security alerts, several stations have police officers stationed at them. On one brisk morning last week I noticed three of them standing next to each other and I decided to get close enough to hear but not close enough that I would get caught staring at their guns. (Come on, I'm not the only one who does that)

I feel bad for these cops. They have to stand on the platforms and just monitor. Some of the subway stations are above ground which can be literally freezing in the winter time. Moreover, what they carry on their belts makes them look less like cops and more like a cross between Batman and a carpenter without a tool box.

As I leaned against a pillar waiting for the train I was delighted to hear of the vacation plans that two black male cops were discussing with one black female cop.

Cop A: Male, Tall, Skinny

Cop B: Male, Short, chunky, baby face

Cop C: Female, tallish, short hair

Cop C: "Got my vacation coming up in December. Gonna be nice."

Cop B: "Where you going? Jamaica?"

Cop C: "Nope. Barbados."

Cop A: "That's nice. Didn't you go last year?"

Cop C: "Yeah I did. It was either there or Trinidad"

Now, as I heard these three destinations I began to think. There seems to be an unusually high amount of people that live in New York who take vacations to Caribbean islands. I have never been to the Caribbean but I'd like to go someday. But I have never heard the people who want to go to the Caribbean talk about any other destination/city/country besides New York and the Caribbean. But this was not why I chose to write about their conversation although you can tell by the way Cop A asked Cop C that she went to Barbados last year that this is a reoccurring thing.

Here is the best part...

Cop A: "How much time you getting off?"

Cop C: "I hope ten days but captain been pulling some shit lately."

Cop B: "What you mean?"

Cop C: "I just don't like how he be handling some shit sometimes. Like tell me this. How come when we arrest the black kids we keep them over night but when we arrest the Jews, they get let out the back door?"

Cop A at this point put up his hands and pretending to walk away as to distance himself from the oh-so-smart Cop C.

I wonder what they do if they arrest someone who is Jewish and black. But maybe the cop doesn't understand one is an ethnicity and the other a religion. Or maybe half the time they keep the person overnight after they arrest them and the other half of the time they let 'em go.

Well I say to you Cop C: that is a darn good question! Let me answer that question with a few others. How do you know the folks you sometimes arrest are Jewish? Is there a survey similar to the SAT test where one has the option to state their religion(s)?

I can picture it now....

Setting: Streets of Manhattan

Who: Young man being arrested by a cop

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law... and do you keep kosher?"

Three Friends

Setting: The Q train from Brooklyn heading to Manhattan

Who: Three young women

A: Alpha of the group. Wearing sweatshirt with hood up. Talks the most. Swears constantly

B: Can't articulate feelings but has a lot of them. Experiencing trouble with significant other

C: Quiet and out of place. Should have other friends but likes feeling of belonging.

As I boarded the train heading to work I was surprised that there were so many seats available. Usually, on a weekday morning, the train is packed and I am forced to stand as I travel 35 minutes to work.

After two stops, a fair amount of people boarded the train and as there were several seats available, particularly the seats closest to me, I soon found myself unable to really stretch out. To my immediate left sat a black woman while her two friends, whom she boarded the train with, sat opposite us.

Although I could only see her out of my peripherals, I noticed the woman who sat next to me the most. She had her hood on her head and a snot rag, in her hand that she kept using to wipe her nose. Her voice was nasally and she was clearly sick. No matter; a common cold could never stop a woman of her caliber from talking trash.

Before her rear touched the seat she started on what was definitely the best part of their conversation: her opinion of other women.

The following is a direct quote: "These ugly bitches are doing it! I gotta go home and write it on facebook. 'Ugly bitches are getting fine guys.' Trust me, ugly girls will be runnin' shit in 2011!"

Let's dissect piece by piece.

"These ugly bitches are doing it! I gotta go home and write it on facebook."

Its always something serious when a sentence begins with "these ugly bitches". However, we don't know exactly what she means until later in her rant. What we can deduce from this is knowing that nothing is for real until it is on facebook.

"Ugly bitches are getting the fine guys"

Is that so, madame? Clearly there is something bitter going on here. Perhaps you had a boyfriend and he has since been shacked up with another and your only argument is that less attractive women, in your opinion, are getting guys. Well I say this: if your argument were true then you, too, would have a boyfriend.

"Trust me, ugly girls will be runnin' shit in 2011"

Oh no! ! I do wonder what she meant by 'runnin' shit'. Perhaps she meant that the local government will be overrun with ugly bitches making decisions that she, as an attractive person will have to grudgingly deal with. And shoot we only got a month until the year is up. We are all doomed!

After this enlightening on ugly people, the conversation switched to the women who had trouble getting her feelings and thoughts out in the open. As she struggled to form a sentence in between shaking her head and exhaling, I looked at the quiet one of the group and realized she would go this whole subway ride without saying one thing. She just nods and says "yeah, girl" under her breath.

The second lady was able to hammer home the point of her feelings after a few minutes, however. "He didn't get me no birthday present. I AKSED him about it and he said nothing"

"He didn't get me no birthday present."

Hmm. If we were take her sentence literally then, in actuality, your boyfriend did get you a birthday present but I don't believe that is what she was saying.

"I AKSED him about it and he said nothing."

I never understood this one. Ask is not too challenging of a word but for some reason a variety of people cannot pronounce it properly. Ask and axe-apparently there is no difference. If someone were to speak with me and saying "Can I aks you something?" I would have to respond by thanking them for the kind gesture but I choose to get my own firewood.

Once we stopped at 34th Herald Square, all four of us got off and as I let them exit before me (I am a gentleman/wanted to hear more conversation) I noticed that the first woman who sat next to me had a marijuana leaf tattoo on her hand while the second woman had four stars tattoo'd on her face.

If I had to guess I would say the one with the tattoo on the hand is a professor while the one with the stars is an investment banker.

Welcome

Simply put: This will be a blog where I will relay all the conversations, antics, and statements that I overhear while I call New York home.