Kitty Power

Fantasy Vs. Reality, Or Why I Hate The E Late At Night

It was one of those weird nights.

I had discovered hours after the first nagging thought of my bag feeling empty that I left my wallet at home. No card to get money, which wasn't so bad. But also no ID, which potentially could have been. The advantage of being a bit jaded is that I breeze into many places. I've begun to think that they smell the fear/nervousness of the casual party people. I look confident and flash a smile, I breeze in. Or perhaps it's because I'm a woman. Do most rules apply to "cute" girls? I arrived at the site of the listening party I'd been stoked about most of the week after the open bar was over to find that swag time was over also. You win some, you lose some. I'd ordered up a water and chatted with my new friend, the bouncer. He gave me the scoop on the place and when it's worth bothering for. I thanked him and set off to my friends at Sapph. The life of a random magnet is never boring.

I've had a pain in my back for the past few days. It emanates from one of those hard to reach places -- below my neck, between my shoulders, most likely caused by too many nights (and days) hunched over the keyboard in my bad chair. It's a dull ache that makes me stretch in vain and feel disgruntled. I sat at the bar and ordered water while everyone tried their massage remedies to fix me. Nothing's worse for soreness than aggravating the injury further so I decided to call it a night. I took the A running through Second Avenue as a sign that I should roll into 416 and check the scene. I went. I saw. I left. Places can be slightly taxing when you're the only sober and achy person in the room.

My watch said 2:25, early for me. Necessity has caused me to make leaving into a science. The F train ride is 40 minutes and the E is about 50. Travelling so much has given me the knowledge that the best times to ride the train are before 1am or after 3am,. especially since the bus has a dead zone after 3:30 operating every hour. In that window of time, the snakes crawl out from under their rocks as my mother says. Or from my perspective, the drunks come out. The severely trashed/lightweights tend to stumble out of places between 1:30 and 3:00. A long train ride with a pack of rowdies is about as fun as a root canal. Tonight however, I just wasn't in the mood to waste another hour and change. Laziness led me to take the E train at 14th instead of taking the L/walking the 2 long ass blocks to the F. I hate that train late at night because the last stop is the nighttime hub for cabs in the neighborhood. They lie in wait at the top of the stairs: "Cab, darling, you need a cab" follows me in a chorus as I walk to the desolute bus stop where I wait and stare at the back of the darkened Bally's Gym. My last trip over there was treacherous with dark ice covering all paths around it. I had walked slowly and cautiously, still almost falling as I made my way onto the bus. I wasn't looking forward to being there.

I sat on a long bench in a quarter full car, leaving some space in between myself and the edge near the door. I noted I was the only woman in my car. At 42nd, a guy sat diagonal from me with his loud ass Discman, singing along to Biggie. He gave me the eye. I gave him the eyeroll.

At 57th, a guy plopped next to me in the space between me and the end of the bench. I wondered again about the lack of space respect of people. I wonder about that a lot. The bench next to mine was totally empty but the SOB just had to sit on top of me. Fucker. As time passed, I could feel him looking at me. My peripheral vision gave me the impression that he was looking at my bag and I held it closer to me. I entertained thoughts of him trying to steal my bag and me punching him in his head before smacking the shit out of him with my bag. Occasionally, I have violent daydreams of fucking people up. It's the remnants of the tomboy that had to be tough to navigate a lot of things. It's also this city. You've got to be on alert. Shit can happen at any time. Sad but true.

At Steinway St, I looked at my watch and let out a big sigh. Another reason to hate the stupid E was that it runs local all the way through Queens. It was 3 and I had a bus to catch in a half hour or else I'd be screwed. The man next to me decided to start chatting at me. Fuck. I hate it when that happens. I tried to be noncommital and politely ignoring him, but he couldn't take the hint. My monosyllabic, monotone responses and obvious disinterest only encouraged him. Shit.

After five minutes, I moved a few people spaces down the bench and hoped he would stop. No dice. "Can you leave me alone, please? I'm tired and don't feel like talking."

"I'm just trying to be nice. What's your name?"
"I don't give out my name."
"What? Why you gotta be all stank for?"
"I just don't want to talk." Stoneface. Resolve to be silent.

"Oh, you trying to act cute? You're ignoring me? Hey. Hey! Excuse me, Miss?" Silence. "Why you gotta be a bitch for? Oh, now you're just playing yourself!"
"No, you're playing yourself. You're the one who's still talking." Fucker was pissing me off. He can't take a fucking hint?! Made me have to put my bitch voice on.
"Why you gotta be all rude? You got a nasty attitude, you know that? You're acting like a real bitch!"
"I'll be a bitch. Then, if I'm a bitch, why are you still talking to me?" Moving farther down the bench. He follows. Other people vaguely look over. Roosevelt Avenue. Much of the car gets off and one man gets on and sits on the bench facing ours. I move all the way to the end of my bench and he's still follows. I really resolve not to talk and hope he'll give up on his mutters and get off soon.

He's boring a hole into the side of my head, but I resolve to look straight ahead and say nothing. He's still muttering at me and trying to get my attention. The man across from us is watching the tableau with his glassy drunken eyes, looking like if he moves, he'll vomit. Still, I see that he's vaguely concerned as his eyes dart between us. I share a glance with the man, but I wonder what he would do if something really happened. "Hey!" I look at the punk to my side, coldly. "You know I'm gonna fuck you up, right?"

Woodhaven Blvd. My breath catches in my throat but I refuse to let him see me crack. I stare straight ahead and he goes back to trying to get my attention. I momentarily wonders why he could possibly thing that after a threat, I'd be more instead of less likely to talk to him. I mentally kick myself for not choosing the conductor car since only 4 of us dot my end of the car and I refuse to look left to check who else is around. I put all my effort into praying that the man across does not leave. I entertain the thought of just getting off the train, but then I think of how he could follow me -- unless I time it so perfectly that the doors are closing -- and that the next train to come would make me miss my bus and I'd be better off just going back into Manhattan if I got off.

"You know you're a bitch, right? You're just a stupid bitch. You're a slut. You're a whore..."

I tune out his words and concentrate on staring straight ahead. I feel my eyes beginning to burn. 63rd Drive. That son of a bitch will not make me crack. I weigh the pros and cons of just punching the shit out of him. I mean, the threat was out there. If he wants to fight me, I'll give his ass a fight. I feel bloodlust welling up from somewhere deep inside. 67th Avenue.

71st - Continental. The platform has people milling about. I'm tempted to run and grab onto a conductor, but I'm scared that he'll follow. I'm starting to be more scared that he'll get off at Jamaica Center also and follow me from there. As if sent by God, the F pulls in across the platform. I simply stand up and leave. I turn back at him before the E doors close and he's looking at me like an impotent fucking idiot. I resist the urge to stick up my middle finger and yell "go fuck yourself, you pathetic asshole!" The E train doors close and it pulls away. I sit on the F observing the ratio of the car. Another woman stares back at me. I wonder if she ever gets scared on the train. I wipe away some tears that were trying to spill over and let out a big breath. I think it's the first time I've breathed in almost 10 minutes.

Parsons Blvd comes before I realize it and I step off. I practically run to the donut stand to tell my friend what happened as the bus pulls around the corner. 3:27. I say a quick goodbye and run across the street to the empty corner where no one is waiting to step on. It would figure that after all that shit I'd miss it. I'm not in the mood to take a chance.

3:41, I walk in my door. I see a kitty face peering around a corner and walk to my mom's room. "Mommy, I got threatened on the train." The story spills out in a big rush. "I should've hit him. I wish so bad I would've hit him. Fucker was just trying to intimidate me." The anger chokes me up. "Mommy, I need a hug."

Posted by Candicissima at January 23, 2004 05:32 AM