"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