Subway Riders Are Lunar Tunes

I noticed about midway through the week that people were fucking nuts. Like, worse than usual. Gawker noticed, too. I thought to myself, "Jess, I wonder if there's a full moon a-comin'." And indeed there is! Tomorrow. That might explain what I witnessed on the F-Train yesterday.

I have an uncanny ability to enter the subway car where the crazy people are. Always. Yesterday morning, I made a mad dash for the first car right before the door closed, and bleary-eyed, grabbed onto the middle pole and tried not to fall asleep standing up. I surveyed the car. Most people were seated. An attractive Dick-in-a-Suit type was standing near the door. I noticed a seated man watching him angrily.

"What the fuck are you doing, man?" The seated guy yelled to Dick in a Suit. It immediately became obvious that seated guy was actually Crazy Drunk Guy.

"What did I do?" Dick in a Suit retorted loudly, with an attitude and vaguely Bostonian accent. "You tell me, what the fuck did I do?"

Crazy Drunk Guy pondered this. For a moment, it seemed he had forgotten what incited his rage in the first place. Finally, he regained his composure.

"What if that was your motha sitting there?" Crazy Drunk Guy said, bobbing his head at the girl sitting next to him, who quickly got up and moved to the other end of the car. I, like many other riders around me, had no idea what he was talking about. Dick in a Suit thought hard about the question.

"Are you talking about me putting my hand in my pocket?" Dick in a Suit asked. "Is that your problem? I was PUTTING MY HAND IN MY POCKET. Things are not always what they seem, my friend."

Crazy Drunk Guy mumbled something about "that faggot shit."

"That faggot shit? Is that what you said? You wanna go right here?" Dick in a Suit puffed out his chest and got louder with every word. Crazy Drunk Guy got up. I frantically looked for another place to stand, because if they started throwing punches I was definitely going to be in the line of fire. It also occurred to me that Crazy Drunk Guy could have a weapon of some kind.

Crazy Drunk Guy stood there for at least five minutes, staring down Dick in a Suit. The entire subway car watched in nervous silence. Finally, Crazy Drunk Guy reached his hand back to get some momentum, aimed a punch about five feet to the left of Dick in a Suit, and nearly fell over. Embarrassed, he grabbed a pole to steady himself and walked down to the other end of the car, sending the girl who'd fled him earlier scurrying back. Dick in a Suit laughed and got off at the next stop, 34th St.

The train hadn't even left the station yet, when I heard a familiar voice down on the other end of the car.

"What the fuck are you looking at, huh, motherfucker?"

Just an average day on the F-Train. Gotta love it.