This past Tuesday, Veteran’s Day, I decided to go to Manhattan to meet up with some other veterans to mark the occasion. Unfortunately, they were all meeting up on the lower east side. I, on the other hand, had to travel from BFQ (bum fuck Queens) so it was quite the long haul for me; I might as well ride the subway to the moon. It’s not that bad; it’s just that when I make these social visits to the city I always travel sans ipod and book. That means that the hour and a half trip feels like three days. Inevitably when I make these trips I hope for something cool or random to go down. Usually nothing does, and I end up staring at the person across from me–making them feel exceedingly uncomfortable–or reading the same dumb advertisements over and over and over again.
Instead of taking the E-Train, like I normally do, I decided to take the F all the way, that way I wouldn’t have to switch trains at Washington Square. It was lucky for me that I decided to do that otherwise I would have missed the craziness. One stop before Washington Square, 14 St., some raggedy-ass bum got on the train, and started yelling:
“I’m homeless, I don’t have a home, give me some money. I’m homeless, I don’t have a home, give me some money. I’m homeless…”
Seriously he just kept up the same chant over and over again, and he didn’t walk down the train he just stood at the far end yelling. It was kind of funny, well, as funny as a homeless guy can be. Eventually he started to take some baby-steps down to the opposite side of the train continuing his mantra:
“I’m homeless, I don’t have a home, give me some money. I’m homeless…”
He kept going on and on with the homeless thing, and nobody really gave a shit. Everyone just kept doing their thing. Then he got to me, and realized the futility of his mantra so he called an audible, and started freestyling:
“I’m so hungry I haven’t eaten in 5…6 days. It’s been so long I don’t remember how long it’s been.”
“Did you know today’s Veteran’s Day? Well I’m a Veteran, and I’m homeless and hungry. Give me some money.”
I started laughing after he said that one and dropped a “Bullshit!” on him, but he kept trudging on until he was in front of these two older ladies (50-60). By that time he had reverted back to his original mantra, and he was standing right in front of these ladies yelling it:
One of the ladies looked at her friend and whispered innocently, “What is he doing?”
Well he wasn’t about to allow these two ladies to question him. So he turned around, crouched down into this pseudo three-point stance, while holding onto the vertical bar and yelled, “What am I doing?”
“What are you doing? You think I am your fucking child. No, no, no, no, NO! Fuck you! I am not your child. I’m fucking old. Ancient like the Earth. You don’t ask me what I am doing. I ask you what you are doing. You fucking understand me? FUCK YOU!
(By the way he wasn’t that old, and he was definitely younger than the ladies he was antagonizing.)
Well these poor older ladies turned toward each other, and tried to will him to disappear, or to turn into a pillar of salt, or anything just so long as he left them alone. Meanwhile I leaned back, and enjoyed the show, because he wasn’t done yet.
He stepped even closer to them, and tried to crouch down so his face was right at their level, and let loose with a masterful verbal tirade.
“You know how old I am bitch? I’m so old you could be my child. I should be wondering where you are going, and what you are doing; but I don’t cuz I don’t give a fuck about you.”
And here he looked up, and looked at everyone on the train.
“I don’t give a fuck about any of you. Fuck all of you. I’m fucking older than all of you. You should all be giving me money. Fuck you, you know what? Fuck you. I don’t want none of your money. Yeah, that’s right. I haven’t eaten in 7 days, but I would take shit from any of you.”
Finally the train hit Broadway-Lafayette, and he scurried towards the door, but before he left he looked back and yelled, “Fuck all of you, motha fuckers.” At this point I was laughing pretty hard, and I realized that the next stop was mine. It’s amazing how quick that last part of the train ride was–it just flew by. If only crazy ass bums could yell at people more often on the train; then my sojourns into the city would be much quicker and way more entertaining.