Having lived in this city for nearly 37 years, I never expected to be writing a post like this. But, then I never I expected to live (grateful to be alive!) during a pandemic, which, I believe is responsible, at least underlyingly, for the social and racial tensions in our city.
Consider some of my recent experiences.
Last week, one day, while doing my exercise walk in Bay Ridge, I came across two men, engaged in a loud argument. One was a tall, white, hippie type, with a beard. The other, shorter, had an olive complexion, which could pass for a lot. Evidently, the shorter guy had called the taller one a racist, and this man was defending himself, maintaining he was not, asking why is he being called that?
They could be heard clear all over the street. When I approached, with trepidation, they sensed my dilemma, and politely removed themselves from my path, to continue their argument in the street. I have no idea what became of it.
Then there was this past Friday.
I had an appointment, with my dermatologist, in Manhattan. I have to take the R train, my home train, to 36th Street, and then change to the D, getting off at 59th Street and Columbus Circle.
On the wall in, I noticed a short, nondescript man, with a muscular, compact body, fingering his junk, seated across from me! He never looked at anyone, so clearly his motivation, to me, was the idea of getting away with getting off, in a public place, rather than sexual provocation. There was always, of course, the possibility, that I could be wrong, but, when the gentleman dug into his pocket to get out headphones to listen to music, his legs were spread, and I could clearly see, a hole, dead center, exposing his white briefs. So I knew he was on the level.
I wasn't really bothered. It's just, I have enough anxiety. Do I need this? Interestingly, he also got off at 36th to catch the D. Fortunately, he was in a different car, so let others watch him diddle himself!
OK, that was that. The doctor visit was very routine.
The plan, after that, was to meet David at Barnes and Noble on Court Street, near where he works, to see how comfortable I felt going in there--because the last two bookstores I visited did not make me feel comfortable. At one, the staff wore no masks; at the other, they did not allow gloves. To get to David, I had to take the downtown A train, to Jay Street/Metro Tech, which I have done before, but have never had a ride like this one,
Just as I was entering the platform, I heard a man and a woman screaming. I never saw them, just heard voices. The man, whose voice was coming from either the stairwell, or atop the stairs I had just walked down, was presumably white, because he called the woman, so everyone could hear, "a fucking nigger!" The woman countered back, with some epithets of her own, and I could sympathize with her, but one of them should have just let it go, and walked away. But there was no backing down. I feared a potential shootout. Fortunately, the A train came by just then, and I got on.
Wait; there is more.
Somewhere in Manhattan walked onto the train, a well dressed, Afro American, business type. Early in Brooklyn, walked on a youngish man, twenties or thirties dressed, like, "from duh 'hood," with a hoodie. His dress was no problem; but I could tell he was not right, or on something. He was not wearing a mask, which caused a woman near him to move away. I get it. But--remember, I was reading a book, and was not fully aware--somewhere along the way, the businessman and the hoodie, got into an argument, presumably over the latter not wearing a mask. But when it came argument time, off came the business man's mask, and the two would not let up. The hoodie was scarier; both were posting phone pics of each other, so, who know, I may be in there, somewhere, when he began pacing the train walking back and forth, harassing the guy. A woman tried to talk the business man into backing off, but he would not. The hoodie, at one point, stopped his pacing, and screamed to the whole car he had a gun, and would kill everyone on here.
I can't believe how cool I was. I mulled what the hell to do, said nothing, convinced 90% there was no gun. Otherwise, he would have just pulled it out.
On the other hand, one never knows.
The Barnes and Noble made up for it, even though David and I had to walk through the beginnings of tropical storm Fay. Was it named for Fay Wray, or Fay Bainter? Maybe both!
But, on our way home on the R train, when it stopped at 53rd Street, not too far from us, I saw a man get off, stand on the platform, and, just as you or I, girls, might check our cell phones, or our make-up, pulled out to check what looked to me like a .38 or .44 caliber gun. No mistake; it was a firearm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What the fuck is going on in this city?
Any ideas, girls? If so, please tell me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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