"Subway Series" *Homeless Edition*

Ok, you would think that after all the years of staring I'd be used to it, I'm NOT!
I hate people staring at me. I don't think I look special. Dressed in white jeans, a camisole, my "Hollywood Mocha" shades, Giuseppe slippers and one gold and brass cuff, (as opposed to bangels up to my elbows)I think I look regular.


I'm already annoyed by all the gawking earlier today in "Home Depot" so I'm certainly not in the mood.

I walk onto the train, all eyes on me. I'm disgusted by the blonde guy dressed in greens scrubs who has a full meal spread out on his lap, and is chewing with his mouth open, staring. The two women who are either in their late forties or early fifties are looking me up and down over their glasses, lips pursed. One dressed in a cheap polyester suit with dyed reddish brown hair. The other in mom jeans and a tee shirt and a slick ponytail with a pack of hair that doesn't match hers. The unattractive men, staring. I turned my iPod louder. "So Amazing" by Tye Tribbett blasted as I turned my lip up and nodded my head to the heavy rock beat.

I try to lose myself in the music as I lean back against the door but make the mistake of looking to my left first. A large woman, probably my age, is staring. Not just the normal stare but a look of utter hate. I imagine she's saying to herself, "Skinny bitch". This woman looks as if I took the last piece of chicken on the buffet line. I stare back. I realize, although my head is facing her, she may not know I'm looking at her, so I remove my shades and stare. I smirk as she looks away, "Fat ass" I mumble as I put my shades back on.

Just as I've convinced myself to relax and let the music soothe me, my iPod dies!! *gasp*

I'm breathing heavy and my nostrils are flared anticipating the content of the conversations I'm about overhear. To my surprise it's quiet aside from one voice. A deep, raspy voice, repeating the same words. It's getting closer. I look up to see him standing in front of me. His kinky hair was littered with lint. The shirt he wore, tattered and dirty as he held his dirty, chapped hand inches from my face. I blinked twice waiting for him to move on, but he stood there staring at me, talking, with his hand in my face.

I'm not sure what he was saying to me, I felt the smoke coming from ears and the white spots danced before my eyes. My face was hot with anger. I was either about to black out and murder this man on the train or pass out. .wait..what is he saying? After asking me for change was he really asking me out on a DATE?! Where are we going? Panhandling? FOH!



*ding dong*

Thank You for riding the fucking MTA

"Subway Series" Complexion Connection Edition

I've been stuck indoors for the past four days, with back pain, so I'm anxious to be out and about.


Dressed in white skinny jeans, a tank top and fedora, I tip toe gingerly in my four inch heels, feeling the tugs and tweaks in my back. I think to myself, "These heels were a bad idea"

I stand waiting for the train, all eyes on me. I roll my eyes and pull out my iPod.

The train arrives and I'm bopping my head, to the remix of "Sugar we're going down" by Fall Out Boy, as I board.

My eyes quickly scan the car for a seat. I spot one near a young man with a stroller and a toddler. I look down at my white pants and think, "No way!" I spot a seat beside a middle aged hispanic man, with socks up to his knees and sandals, who is staring at my "pants" and a perfectly tanned, female, dressed in dark, stripped slacks and a rumpled white blouse, her blonde hair pulled in a careless bun. I sat by the girl.

I relax, leaning my head back against the wall and crossing my legs. I close my eyes. *tap tap* on my arm. What the..? My eyes shoot open, I sit upright, and my head whips to my right with a snarl. The blonde girl is talking to me. I rip out my ear plugs and growl, "What!?" "What color is that on your toes?", she smiles. Her haggard, tired face is transformed and she is radiant. I couldn't help but soften and respond, explaining that it could only be one of three colors, because I only wear pale pinks, looking down at my manicured toes in my opened toe shoes and then at her's, which were large. Stuffed into flip flops her feet were dry and chapped, nails without polish. I grimaced and looked back up at her.

"..Because, it looks great against your skin color", she was saying. I smile. "Aww, thanks."

She asks why I only use the pale pink colors and I explain that I don't like the way the darker colors look on me. She begins to tell me of her black friend who also doesn't wear dark colors. "You guys are crazy. Especially you. Your complexion is good it goes perfect with everything. It's nice because it's not too dark" *errrkkkk* WHAT?! Time out. Did she really just say that? I roll my eyes and smile coldly as I put my headphones back in, mumbling to myself, "This bitch with her orange spray tan talkin' to me. That's why I don't fuckin' talk to strangers. Stupid ass."



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA.

"Subway Series" New Crush Edition?

Riding the trains daily you begin to notice familiar faces. For me the familiar faces are the older West Indian woman with the bible, the tall, dark, handsome bald guy who I crush on and hope to see every day, the guy who always gives me the eye and nauseates me, the interracial couple, the brothers and the mother, etc.

My day has been rough. All I can think about is getting home to my comfy couch and a glass of red wine. Thank heavens for a smooth train ride. No crazies. There are a few lingering stares from people but nothing out of the ordinary. My iPod hasn’t died and I’m enjoying very soothing sounds in my ears. The train arrives at my stop and I slowly walk off the train. Dressed in a dark gray pencil skirt, “Hollywood shades”, a fitted tee and my favorite bedazzled Giuseppe slippers I walk to the market. I don’t know why, but, I’m compelled to turn around and look behind me. I do and look into the eyes of a familiar face. I look away shyly but not before a slight smile is exchanged. *giggle* I turn back around and walk into the fruit market thinking to myself, “Wow, he really is very handsome”.

I know what you’re thinking but your wrong. It wasn’t my train crush! Ha! It’s one of the brothers! The mother, who barely looks a day over 40, gives the impression of being a sister from church. Dressed in shin length skirts and dresses every day (never pants) and I can almost see the lace head covering but I’m sure she doesn’t wear that to work, lol. Her hair is straight and hangs past her shoulders. She always has her tote and her large purse. The brothers could almost be twins they look so much alike, however one is just a little cuter than the other. They are always dressed in slacks and collared shirts. Never dressed in suits and ties or sneakers and jeans, they are light to caramel in color with dark cesars. The one who I assume is the younger of the two is ALWAYS with the mom. The other I only see sometimes. (He’s the cuter of the two and the one I see now) Maybe I’m paranoid but many times I’ve passed them and I feel they are discussing me when I walk down to my spot on the platform and look back at them looking at me. (Mother included)

As I walk around in the market I look up to see him standing outside. He’s talking on his cell and he’s looking at me. I feel my face flush as he smiles a spectacular smile. Wow..he REALLY IS quite handsome. I make my purchases and walk out. He’s still there talking on his cell. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t put down his phone, so I walk into the next market for the rest of my groceries. I walk through the market thinking, of what I might say if he is still waiting. The pessimistic thoughts enter and I’m saying to myself, “He’s short. He’s light. He probably lives at home with his mom. He isn’t interested. He would have gotten off of the phone. He was probably waiting for his girlfriend.“ I suppress all these thoughts and say to myself “You are limiting your options. He could be a wonderful person. If you don’t date him, he may become one of your best friends. Don’t be afraid” I push my cart to the side and go outside to say something. I look to my left and then to my right. He’s gone.



*Ding Dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

"Subway Series" *I hate Kids Edition*

How long has it been since I've told you that I hate kids and thirsty men?

Dressed in dark denim, short shorts, a tank top, white jacket, fedora, shades and tons of gold and wooden bracelets, I teeter on my 5 inch heels to the train. Rushing, I've forgotten my ipod. Great!

There aren't usually people hanging out on my block but today there were and it seems they are all men who've never seen legs before. I try not to be rude but I'm slightly annoyed.

I ignore the cat calls and walk up the stairs to wait for a train as apparently I've just missed one.

I sit on the bench and a short hispanic man and his two chubby children approach me. The father and daughter, sit beside me and the son stands in front of us.

Both kids are wearing glasses, back packs and flip flops and their feet are filthy. The boy sneezes a disgusting sounding wet sneeze and sprays everything within a foot of him. He doesn't cover his mouth. I roll my eyes is disgust and disbelief that his father didn't reprimand him.

The children begin to play hand games with each other and dangerously close to the angry black woman. (Me) Nostrils flared, I let out a slow breath. I'm waiting for the father to say something to his rowdy kids as they laugh and rough house with each other. He says nothing and my patience wears thin as the girl hits me with her backpack. I'm about to spazz but she quickly apologizes. I grunt and roll my eyes.

Just as I'm about to open my mouth and use very colorful language we hear the train approaching and they jump up and walk down the platform.

I'm lost on the train with no book to read and no tunes but luckily my blackberry is always buzzing and keeping me occupied.

I'm deep in bbm convos as the train pulls into a station and stops. I hear a few gasps and giggles so I look up to see what the fuss is about. A teen boy (I'm assuming by his frame) dressed in a, Charlie Chaplain like hat, jeans, a collared shirt, vest, and...a mask. A Jabbawokee mask. He's carrying a large duffle bag which I will soon find out is holding his boom box.

He sets down his bag and stands at the door. Not moving. Not speaking. Just standing. A few more giggles. I am not amused. I go back to my bbm convos. He turns on his music and begins his act. He does a little hip hop dance. Then he begins to gyrate suggestively on a womans lap. She laughs. My eyebrow raises as he moves on to another female and she giggles. He walks over to me and sits beside me. Just as I'm about to say "Look here, chile, I will beat you like you ate my last chicken wang!", the door that leads to the next car opens. On walks a tall heavyset man who resembles the rapper "Bone Crusher" with a sign on his neck. His hair is wild, curly, and dirty. Thick round glasses rested on a dirty face. He had on a tee shirt and jeans but he had a blanket draped over his shoulders with a rope wrapped around it. In a loud gravely voice he yells, "Spare some change, anybody?!" I almost bust out laughing at the sound of his voice. Is he serious! He sounds like a cartoon villain. Suddenly Jabbawockee kid doesn't seem so bad. Imagine this large,dirty man giving lap dances on the train.



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

"Subway Series" *It's a Boy Edition*

When did it become okay for women not to take pride in their appearance. When did the lines become blurred between male or female?




The temperature is on hell. Dressed in a navy blue, silk, halter dress, gold and wooden bangles up to my elbows on each arm, large chandelier earrings, a fedora and my "Hollywood Mocha" shades, 4inch gold and wooden sandals, I walk slowly to the train.

Standing on the platform, apparently I'm the center of attention. Everyone is staring. The young girl in her low cut sun dress with tattoos on her collarbone, the two older hispanic women stopped talking to look me up and down, the teen boy who looked like he was getting off of his summer youth job for the day, all staring.

As I took into account the way they were all attired I didn't feel too bad. I realized most people expect black women to be a certain size and look a certain way and as my friend says, I'm "Extra" lol.

As Linkin Park played in my ears I watched a muscular girl in a tank top, skinny jeans and flip flops switch my way. Holy crap! It's a BOY!

The train arrives and I step on to more staring. Two African woman stopped their loud conversation to stare at me. I return their gazes and look them up and down as well. They both have on flip flops and look as if they have been kicking rocks their entire lives. Gag reflex kicks in. How gross. I notice that the one on the right's feet are my color but her face and neck are yellowish, lol. They both have beautiful faces and are dressed head to toe in kente cloth. They have bags at their feet and on the seat between them.

I'm bored with them so my eyes scan the train and rest on a hispanic man with wet and wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. He leering at me. I roll my eyes.

The train stops and I exit to transfer. I'm looking down at myself wondering why everyone is staring as a pair of hard looking feet in flip flops, with chipped polish, pass me. My eyes slowly scan up the body. Short shorts, knobby knees, tee shirt, vest, wow that hair. What a mess! OMG! It's a boy!

The next train arrives and I step on and take a seat across from a large woman in a summer dress and flip flops. My nostrils flare and I roll my eyes as she looks me up and down and stares. My eyes rest on her Flinstone feet and yellowed toenails then on my own pink toenails. My pedicure is two weeks old and my feet still look great. I wonder how long it's been since she's had a pedicure.

I'm shaking my head wondering why women don't care about how they look when I see the cutest girl. She has on skinny jeans/or leggings, a graphic tee, a long sweater and her hair is gelled up in a Rihanna type style. She appears young so I'm impressed by her make up. It's perfect. She has on dancer shoes (not stripper but the soft leather, jazz dancer, shoes) OMG! My eyes open wide as I realize, It's a boy!

Twilight Zone!!



*Ding Dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

"Subway Series" *Summer Edition*

I hate people touching me. I especially hate when strangers touch me. I rarely shake hands and if I do I sanitize immediately after. I wear sweaters and jackets in 90 degree humid weather to avoid peoples skin touching me when in close proximity. Hey people have germs! Lol

It's the best weather of the summer yet. The sun is shining brightly and there is a slight breeze. It's not humid and it's under 80 degrees. I'm dressed in dark skinny jeans, a black camisole, 5 inch heels and my "Hollywood Mocha" shades.

I step onto the train rap music blasting. (Did I tell you rap music makes me violent?)

A young girl no older than 25 sits beside me. I inch away realizing I've left my jacket at home and my arms are bare. Closing my eyes I settle in for the ride. She coughs. My eyes open slowly. She coughs again. I let out a slow and steady breath. She coughs AGAIN!

My head snaps to my right as I glare at her. I realize it's not a sick cough but a dry cough. I search my bag for a candy and shove it at her. "Thank you" she says. I grunt and roll my eyes before attempting to relax again.

She gets off the train in another couple stops and I'm happy it's not crowded and none of these large humans will try to squeeze in beside me.

We arrive at 125th street station and it must be drug addict Wednesday. At least four of them get on and two sit on either side of me. I almost scream. I'm breathing heavily trying not to inhale the stench coming from the one to my left. I look over and he's holding a book out reading it. I look at his dirty fingers and notice his thumb nail is half gone and what's left is a blackish green color. I'm gaging.

The one on my right is fidgeting, going in his bag, playing with his headphones, going in his pockets. All the while his grimy hawaiian button down is brushing against my arm. I've had it with him! I swing my purse to push him off of me and growl, "What the fuck man!". Thank God it's my stop. I roll my eyes and push past the people trying to rush onto the train before the passengers get off. I bump a girl so hard she almost falls and turn to look at her DARING her to say something. She scurries onto the train.

I walk quickly up the stairs to wait for the next train. It arrives and I sit down. An older woman with a large purse and shopping bags sits beside me. I want to curse her but I don't because she is old enough to be my grandma. She nicely rests her purse on my leg. I suck my teeth and move my leg.

Oh no! My IPOD dies! Whyyyyy!!

She's chomping down on some chips or peanuts or something and her purse has made it's way back into my lap. I keep telling my self "She's old, leave her alone" but when the person beside her gets off she doesn't move over, I'm left to assume she's being spiteful. I push her bag off of my leg and suck my teeth, thinking "I dare you, grandma!" She moves her bag and continues to eat. I pull out my blackberry(R) and begin to type all the while thinking "I hate this shit"



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA.

"Subway Series" *drummer boy edition*

I don't mind some of the subway entertainers. They are actually quite entertaining but some of them are pushy,disruptive and obnoxious.


It's hot as hell. I'm wearing a knee length, white, cotton sundress,a shrug of a denim jacket and flip flops. Of course I'm wearing my "Hollywood Mocha" shades.

Sweat pours down my face as I walk briskly to the train sipping on a slushy from Dunkin Donuts.

The train arrives and I pull out my book. The train is EMPTY! I'm ecstatic. I sit in a nice little corner reading my book, sipping my slushy. Train stops a couple people get on. A little hispanic man in a baseball cap, shorts, a muscle shirt and sandals carrying a backpack smiles at me and sits beside me. I look at all the empty seats and scream "Are u fucking kidding me?!" I swing my bag to smack him and move to the other side the empty train. An older black man with a white goatee and a bald head dressed in khakis and a polo shirt chuckled. I scowl at him.

Reading my book I almost didn't notice the cutie in a charcoal suit, white shirt, no tie, open top buttons. I said ALMOST. Lol

Approaching my stop I close my book and exit the train. Waiting on the platform for my connecting train, I hear the African drum. I pull out my IPOD immediately and crank it up but not before I hear the drummer, a tall, heavyset, balding black man in baggy mom jeans and a dirty gray tee shirt say some about me being perfect. I ignore him and walk further down the platform. He follows, beating his drum and singing loudly. My back is to him and I can't really decipher what he's saying but judging from the smiles at me and giggles he is serenading me. I can feel the vibration of the drum and his voice. Sucking my teeth I fold my arms. He is really trying to get my attention. I am not amused and certainly not in the mood.

The train arrives and I walk on and sit preparing for another quick nap. As soon as I close my eyes, that damn drum starts up again and the large man start speaking loudly and then singing. I wish I had something to throw at him. "Shut the fuck up!!" I want to scream. There is a woman with two small children. She looks as annoyed as I. He comes and stands directly in front of me singing. Dude! Seriously!? "Get outta my got damned face!"

Ugghh, I hate him and everything he stands for! Thank God the doors open and a crowd of people rush onto the train. He gets off.

Thank you! Now..I lean back and prepare to nap. Oh damn, this is my stop! Fuck u drummer boy!



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA