Today was one of those days that really typifies the hate/love relationship I have with NYC. It starts off with me heading to midtown for a meeting. I'm a little late, and I'm huffing it to the train. I'm thinking about Nina Simone who just died yesterday. I'm singing to myself as I hike, "My baby just cares for me". Just as I head down the steps to the train, wouldn't you know it, a bunch of people are coming up -- this means the train has just come, and MIGHT still be there if I RUN down to get to it. So I do. As I get down to the turnstile, there's three people in line to get in, but the service gate is WIDE fuckin' open. So of course I instinctually run in to see if the train is still there. It's not, (great), but that's all it took.
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"Hey!" The little rat bastard cop who's always sitting on his fat little ass at my stop. "Oh, sorry" I say. "Sorry?! You're sorry?!" he squeals at me. I try to explain that my unlimited MTA card is in my hand, and that I was just in a rush to see if the train was still there. "Y'ever been ARRESTED?!" the little pig squawked. "I.D.!" So he makes me show him my ID, then yells at me some more. "I'm sorry officer" I say. "Git outta here!" he says. "You can't pay your fare here! Get outta this station!". "Fine!" So I'm back on the sidewalk, heading up to the next stop. Whatever.
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So then I'm on the path from the first train to the second train, still singing Nina in to myself. I notice this well dressed, older black man, who's blind, TRUCKIN' it down the path like he has 20/20 vision. We end up next to eachother, and I notice that he's singing to himself. I listen more closely, and he's singing "my baby just cares for me". So I turn to him and I'm like, "Holy shit, I've had that same song stuck in my head all morning!"
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So we end up having this great spontaneous conversation, waiting for the next train, and continuing in the car. Turns out he was an art dealer until he lost his sight. But he'd always wanted to be a jazz singer. He was singing Nina Simone because, in addition to thinking about her because of her death, he was so fed up with the Cheney/Bush bullshit politics of this country, that he, like her, was considering moving to Europe and just singing jazz. We had a great exchange. I told him about my own music and poetry, and he wished me the best of luck as he exited the train for his vocal lesson.
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I went on to midtown only to be stood up by my "client". Whatever.
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<b>"My baby just cares... for... ME!"</b>
<P>
"Hey!" The little rat bastard cop who's always sitting on his fat little ass at my stop. "Oh, sorry" I say. "Sorry?! You're sorry?!" he squeals at me. I try to explain that my unlimited MTA card is in my hand, and that I was just in a rush to see if the train was still there. "Y'ever been ARRESTED?!" the little pig squawked. "I.D.!" So he makes me show him my ID, then yells at me some more. "I'm sorry officer" I say. "Git outta here!" he says. "You can't pay your fare here! Get outta this station!". "Fine!" So I'm back on the sidewalk, heading up to the next stop. Whatever.
<P>
So then I'm on the path from the first train to the second train, still singing Nina in to myself. I notice this well dressed, older black man, who's blind, TRUCKIN' it down the path like he has 20/20 vision. We end up next to eachother, and I notice that he's singing to himself. I listen more closely, and he's singing "my baby just cares for me". So I turn to him and I'm like, "Holy shit, I've had that same song stuck in my head all morning!"
<P>
So we end up having this great spontaneous conversation, waiting for the next train, and continuing in the car. Turns out he was an art dealer until he lost his sight. But he'd always wanted to be a jazz singer. He was singing Nina Simone because, in addition to thinking about her because of her death, he was so fed up with the Cheney/Bush bullshit politics of this country, that he, like her, was considering moving to Europe and just singing jazz. We had a great exchange. I told him about my own music and poetry, and he wished me the best of luck as he exited the train for his vocal lesson.
<BR>
I went on to midtown only to be stood up by my "client". Whatever.
<P>
<b>"My baby just cares... for... ME!"</b>
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New York's public transportation beats anywhere in America to heck in a spikey little handbasket, after all.
Tell your friend to stand at a crossroads at midnight with his guitar - after all, when you wish upon a star... or something