Yet Another Subway Performance

A man on the subway, who had obviously drunk one too many eggnogs, decided to burst into song. His unfortunate song choice was the maudlin ballad "All By Myself." The man's pitch ever more unsteady, and his performance grew ever more melodramatic, culminating in the loud chorus: "All By Myseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelf! Don't wanna be! All By MYSEEEEEEEELLLLLFFFF!" A nearby passenger couldn't bear it anymore and exploded, "You WILL be, if you keep singing like THAT!"

A Guy Who Loves America

During the recent presidential election, much was made of the divide between "red" and "blue" states, or more specifically, the churchgoing habits of their residents. New York may be a blue state, but I feel that this denomination is misleading. New Yorkers don't need to go to church; we get regular sermons on the subway as we commute to work. 9 out of 10 mornings, a preacher will board your subway car and noisily spread the gospel.

This morning, I heard him before I saw him: a rotund preacher whose resonant speech was delivered in Spanish. The sermon, which reverberated loudly through the subway car, was delivered in quite an eloquent fashion, with a few minor exceptions. In between impassioned segments about salvation, the preacher tried to reach out to the English-speaking population of the train, with slightly less eloquent results. "Jesus, he's a guy who love America! Alleluia!"

Two By Two...

When entering a subway car, a New Yorker always glances around to see if there's an available seat. Any small chunk of space between the lady sloppily munching on Fritos and the man spreading out his newspaper is fair game. Occasionally, a larger block of seats opens up. But this event is sometimes cause for alarm, as there is usually an unpleasant reason for it.

Last night, I squeezed onto a C train at the Broadway-Nassau station. It was difficult to get on the car because of a clump of passengers scrunched next to the door. I craned my neck to see if there might be a seat somewhere. Then, in front of me, I saw that oasis: an entire bench of available seats!

But as I walked closer, I became aware of a strange and disturbing smell, sort of like cat pee. And then I saw the reason for the empty seats: a bedraggled lunatic with a long grey beard was spewing a stream of the vilest invective. That alone would not have been an unusual occurrence, but this was no ordinary lunatic. Sitting next to him were two cats, each with their noses in a separate can of cat food, happily munching away, and completely oblivious to their owner's noisy discontent.

Poop Bag For Free

If you haven't had time to rummage through the NYC garbage lately, don't worry: there are plenty of people who have taken the time to perform this service for you. Many of them sell their salvaged wares on 6th Avenue and 23rd Street each Saturday afternoon.

Today, there was a gentleman touting the merits of a giant, frayed stuffed dog. Apparently sensing that he had a potential customer in me, he held up a black plastic bag and said: "Buy the dog and you get the poop bag for free."

I hope he realized that the dog he was selling was a stuffed animal.

The Mental Ward

The celebrated inclusiveness of New Yorkers even extends to their assassination plans. Lawrence Ward, a 55-year-old New Yorker, set out to bump off the President. However, not wanting to leave anyone out, he also planned to kill his opponent.

Generational Disconnect

This morning, a teenager holding a violin got on the A train. He readied himself to perform, and an older woman looked up expectantly. I don't know if she was expecting a Bach violin sonata, but she seemed rather bemused when the teen burst forth with an extremely creative improvisation on an Usher tune.

When the teen passed around his hat, the woman asked him what that song was. "Yeah," he said. "What?" she asked again. "What was it, I was asking you, what is the name of that song?" "YEAH!" repeated the teen. This went on for a little while, until the teen gave up on explaining that he was playing a song entitled "Yeah!"

Carnegie Hall? Bah!

On Saturday night, world-famous cellist Yo-Yo Ma took about 40 classical musicians to the Redeye Grill. They'd all been rehearsing the entire day for an upcoming concert at Carnegie Hall, and Ma decided to reward the group with a complimentary full bar.

In the bar, a trio of jazz musicians was playing background music up on a balcony. When the trio went on break and came down to the bar, a couple of Ma's colleagues asked them if they might be able to play a song themselves. The jazz musicians immediately agreed, saying they would ask one of the restaurant managers just to make sure. Having secured such permission, they invited the Juilliard-classical musicians to come up to the balcony whenever they wanted.

The trio went back up and began to play. After a little while, the classical musicians came up and waited. The jazz trio smiled and motioned that they would soon end the song they were playing.

Suddenly, another restaurant manager appeared on the balcony, his face contorted with rage. He gesticulated wildly, waving his arms as though he were about to strike someone, and then pointed accusingly at the classical musicians. While still playing their instruments, the jazz trio tried to explain why the other musicians were up on the balcony, but the music rendered their words inaudible.

Quite audible indeed, however, were the scathing words of the restaurant manager as he unceremoniously shooed Ma's colleagues back down to the bar:

"Get OUT of here, go back downstairs, you can't come up here!!!!"

When the classical musicians reached the ground floor, the jazz trio's drummer yelled down facetiously, "You think Carnegie Hall is the big time, wait till you get to the Redeye Grill!"

(Later, the manager was seen madly apologizing to the musicians, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know who you were...")

Paper Bag Rider

This evening on the F train, a baby screamed and cried in its stroller as though its life depended upon it. The baby's parents stood above it, completely oblivious, with faces of stone.

After about 10 minutes of the piercing wails, several passengers looked as though they would strangle the parents. Fortunately, just as we thought the crying could not get any louder, a drunk entered the subway car. Perhaps for sentimental reasons, he had saved the paper bag he'd been hiding his drink in. He stood above the baby and leered, waving the bag wildly in the air. He then proceeded to sloppily perform the most amazing variety of paper bag tricks for the immediately attentive toddler. He threw the bag in the air. He put it on his head. The parents, momentarily roused from their indifference, looked on approvingly. The child miraculously ceased to cry.

At the next stop, the drunk wobbled off, and the baby began to wail again.

Subway Games

If you've ever ridden the subway in NYC, you'll notice an increasingly common phenomenon: the train will inexplicably stall for, on average, 5 to 10 minutes. This can happen at a station, in which case you might have the option of switching to another train across the platform. However, it mostly occurs when you are underground and helpless.

Fortunately, there are several games with which you can amuse yourself while on the subway:

Avoid the Bottle: No, this isn't a variation on that adolescent dating game. Invariably, someone will have left an empty glass bottle on the subway floor. As the subway creakily wends its way down its path, it will inevitably jerk around some turn, and the bottle will fly towards your feet at the speed of lightning. It's quite a feat to dodge it.

What's That Smell?: Self-explanatory, although not always pleasant.

Name That Tune: The MTA has decreed that there must be at least one individual per subway car who is blasting his/her Walkman to such a volume that the entire train can hear it. It's a fun and exciting challenge to attempt to figure out the playlist.

Subway Surfing: This game can be played on a packed subway car when you haven't secured a seat and there is no pole in sight to grab on to. Try not to fall over and cause a domino effect of toppled straphangers. (Easier said than done.)

Stand clear of the closing doors!

Don't Talk To Strangers

New Yorkers are often accused of being rude, or at least unreceptive, to tourists asking for directions. But the reality is that we are so accustomed to strangers talking to themselves on the street that when someone actually addresses us, we are shocked into silence.

Case in point: this evening, a man walking toward me was shouting rhythmically. Initially, I thought he was shouting at me and wondered what he might be saying. As he drew closer, I could make out his words: "Ee - shut the fuck up. Ee - shut the fuck up. Ee - shut the fuck up." (I believe this was some type of song.)

If you were confronted with this situation regularly, wouldn't you shrink from talking to strangers too?

The Aloha Ape

Category: Amusement

One great thing about NYC is its endlessly creative and resourceful workforce. Many jobseekers post resumes on Craigslist New York. Unfortunately, the below ad may be overlooked, as it was posted in the Help Wanted section. Many potential employers will therefore miss the opportunity to utilize the services of the Aloha Ape:

"I am an unemployed homless (sic) man staying in a homeless shelter. I would rather move to hawaii and wear a gorilla suit with funny oversized sunglasses to make a living entertaining children.With this money I make by day I will reinvest it by night at first into private investigator school and then once I graduated I would solve crimes and go on all types of adventures. all I need is a one way ticket to honolulu (350 to 400 dollars)For your help in getting me over there I would send you my daily exploits via e-mail. Thank you, A. Ape"

I Believe He Can Fly

Frank Sinatra famously sang that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. NYC has a venerable history of attracting people who excel in their field.

We certainly have the most accomplished maniacs in the entire world, and the best thing about them is that their performances are usually only $2.00: the cost of a subway fare.

This morning my F train was treated to a virtuoso performance of "I Believe I Can Fly" by a bedraggled lunatic, who indeed seemed to be flying (at least on a mental level). Amazingly, this man was able to change keys mid-phrase, often entering entirely new realms of tonality. Schoenberg would have tipped his hat. Normally oblivious straphangers turned their heads in amazement.

Unfortunately, the inspiring performance disintegrated halfway through into a disjointed rant: "Free society! Free speech! If you don't wanna listen to it!"

Ah well, better luck next time on singing a song the whole way through, Mr. Nut.

Subway Parade

Ah, the endless comic parade that is the NYC subway. This evening, our entertainment was a wanna-be Bob Marley singing an out-of-tune Redemption Song, a Mexican man crooning melancholy songs in Spanish while strumming a nylon-string guitar, and a tall man carrying 15 transparent heart-shaped balloons with teddy bears floating inside them.

Teach Your Children Well

I just witnessed a mother strolling her toddler along the sidewalk.
"What do you want to eat?" she asked the little girl.

"Donut," replied the child authoritatively.

"Why always the junk food?" sighed the mother, exasperated.

Bilingual Rejection

Walking on the Lower East Side, I passed a short, rotund couple in their 50's. Upon closer inspection, I realized that they were strangers, but that the man was trying to devise a way to become more intimate with the woman. He smiled as the slickest line he could think of came to his mind.

"Habla espanol?"

The woman's retort, in Spanish: "No! Yo hablo in-GLES!"

Subway Disgust

Some say that if you've lived in New York City for 10 years, you automatically become a New Yorker. I would argue that a month of taking the subway would elevate (or demote) you to the same status.

This morning I walked onto the R train and wondered why the left side of the car was almost empty. In front of me was a man whose face was completely obscured by a jacket. Gee, that's strange, I thought. Then I looked down and saw his unzipped pants and the telltale motions of masturbation.