Trains are all jacked, as they tend to be on weekends. The F is diverted along the C line, no C service, A is running normally ... which is to say it never comes. I waited ages for any train to come, entertaining actually just grabbing some milk in the hood and going back home. As I went for the exit, an A arrived, so I grabbed it to Jay Street.
Ran into my first psycho of the night at Jay Street. He lost his shit because another A came right behind the one from which he and I had disembarked. He started banging his bike up and down on its tires, making it bounce at heights to match his ire. I walked away slowly.
When the F arrived, I took it to 2nd Ave and bolted up the stairs to get away from everyone else and more quickly to my destination.
The grocery store was choked with people, nouveau-riche, trust-fund hipsters and the generally over-privileged honkies who are flush with cash. Me, I shop there because I've got celiac disease and have no real recourse.
After picking up two loaves of bread, two pizza crusts, some cold cuts, a gallon of milk, bananas, two boxes of cereal, some yogurt ... I paid the $45 tab and left. Yeah. I got barely 13 things and the bill was $45 and change. It's enough to cause a psychotic break.
On top of exorbitant rent for a place not worth half the price, the ridiculous utility fees and the criminally low wages ... it burns pretty bad to pay what I did tonight for next to nothing.
On the way home, I ran into what I thought was my second psycho. An old black lady was sitting across from me on the train and some cracked-out brother drops into a tight space next to her. They looked nothing alike, so I didn't figure they were related.
Then, when the cracked-out dude starts talking to the lady and she didn't turn her head or say anything back to him, instead clutching her coat close around her neck and looking really uncomfortable, I got to thinking the guy was a nut bag.
Still, though, more than his weirdness, I couldn't get my head around why -- if that lady didn't know the dude, and she didn't want him sitting on top of her -- didn't she move?
Turns out they did know each other.
But psycho number two was on the train. Some black dude sitting at the far end of the train car just started going off, out of nowhere. He started ranting, raving, cursing, yelling. I can't even recall much of it, but it went something like this:
"Fuck you. I ain't your brother. I'ma fuck you up. Fucking bitch-ass, faggot, rich-ass, black honkey piece of shit. Give a fuck who you is..." etc. etc. ad nauseam.
Luckily the tirade lasted one stop, from Jay to Hoyt-Schermerhorn, where the lunatic got off the train.
Still, no one piped up, no one stood up to tell the guy to shut his crazy face ... because everyone knew no one would have their back. The psycho was outnumbered a good 20 to one, but we all just let him go on and on. I wanted to tell him to shut his fool mouth, but the last thing I needed was to get my ass kicked or killed by some angry brother while a bunch of lily-livered, do-nothing cunts watched me get eviscerated.
When I finally got to my stop, I gratefully got off the train and bolted for home, ignoring all the hoes and hustlers that pollute my 'hood. The whole errand took twice as long as it needed to because I spent over a half hour waited for trains. Shouldn't take more than an hour to get there, buy shit and go home. Took me almost two.
I hate this place. I can't even come up with one thing I like about living here, anymore.
© soldwedelian simply means i made this | back | forth | archive