subway people stories, written in new york in november, 2008
one: new york
There was a very handsome man going uptown on the C train tonight. I first saw him through the window while he waited on the platform. I thought he was wearing a fur lined hooded coat, but when he got on the train and sat opposite me, it turned out he was carrying a Chewbacca backpack. Literally. Other than that oddity, he seemed wholly average, quite shy, and a little tired. We met eyes and I smiled a bit at him, trying to convey that I thought he seemed sweet, I liked his hair and thought he was good looking. He shyed away almost immediately and nuzzled his head into his bag. He was wearing what appeared to be a wedding band and shared his headphones with a friend while they continued to converse. Four young teenage boys got on and sat near him. Once he left the train, the boys, who had been glancing over at the man, burst out laughing. I wanted to slap them across the face. Insolent little brats.
*****
I got on the L and took a seat next to a young man in a black, thigh-length coat and a thick, dark blue scarf. He was splayed out a bit but didn’t huddle himself together when I sat down, which some may have found rude but I thought was actually quite nice. We then both transfered to the C and he sat across from me. I got a look at his face finally and he resembled an irritated Steve Coogan. He must have been cold because his lips were an unnatural color. On both trains he sat in what would be the same seat.
*****
Also on that C train a bespectacled man got on and sat next to me. He was wearing a dark coat, a beautiful multi-colored scarf, and the most gorgeous brown boots under his dark jeans. The seats are bench-like on that train and he sat very, very close to me, even though it wasn’t that crowded. If I had been tired, I could have easily laid my head on his shoulder without having to move. Some New Yorkers have spacial issues but I welcomed it fully. It was nice to feel a warm body next to mine. A thoughtful man too, he gave the keyboard-playing bum a dollar and then exited at the next stop.
*****
I stood behind a man on the uptown A tonight who was wearing a black leather jacket, blue pin-stripe pants with black braided belt, and brown dress shoes. He was a good bit taller than me, maybe 6’1″ or 6’2″. From the way he was casually standing, left hand holding onto the upper rail and right hand in his pocket, he struck me as the type of man who would try (and succed) to seduce young white women with long brown hair into going on a date with him, where he would buy them a steak dinner and a whole bottle of red wine. When he turned and I got a look at his face, he resembled someone who would play a thug in a Guy Ritche movie, a real “awright mate” kinda Cockney gentleman. I’m going to assume, that in actuality, he is neither of these images, but I am going to pretend that he is both.
*****
Saturday night a young man about my age was sitting across from me on the downtown 1. He was very tall, well-built, and was wearing glasses, several layers of clothing, and a beanie. A little boy in a camoflauge jacket with an obnoxious orange hood sat down next to him, a few seats down from his mother. The boy was carrying a white shopping bag and was holding two still-packaged Matchbox cars that he just bought. The big, tall, 20 something next to him kept looking at the cars, presumably to see which ones they were. At that moment, I loved all male kind. No matter how heartbreaking grown men can sometimes be, deep down they are all still little boys.
