I walk briskly to the train station. Hair blowing in the wind. Linen pants, bright green tank, and yellow short sleeved jacket. My Hollywood Mocha, shades atop my head holding back my hair.
They are arguing. "Your an idiot" shouts one. "Oh shut your mouth" shouts the other. I'm quite amused. There is a puddle of coffee at the turnstile, and a little blue paper cup, which I gather is the catalyst of the argument.
I follow them up the stairs, smiling to myself and on says something about "Roman Polanski" and the other shouts, "Not his wife u idiot". These old guys are hysterical and remind me of my grandpop, a very cantankerous old man who I should probably go visit soon.
I'm lost in my own memories as I hear old guy number one say to old guy number two, "You know, it was great having you here. I've missed you". They embrace briefly and continue arguing. I chuckle.
The train is approaching. I turn on my ipod as I walk on. Faith Evans sings, "I see the lighting flashing, heard the thunder roll. I feel the cold winds blowing, trying to conquer my soul"
I take a seat by a small black man in a business suit across from a cute Hispanic guy in a tight white shirt, a young girl who looks like she hasn't washed her face but has her bedazzled blackberry in hand. An Indian guy in a baseball cap, a flight jacket and shifty eyes is staring at me. I immediately think of "24" and think, "I will fuck u up if u try to blow up this train and make me late for work." Every few seconds his scary eyes look at me and every time he looks I roll my eyes and my nostrils flare. I realize he's probably a West Indian from Guyana or Trinidad but I stare at him until my eyes get heavy and I fall asleep.
Damn the media for turning me into a paranoid freak. Lol
*ding dong*
Thank you for riding the MTA
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