“Sorry to bother all of you. I have AIDS and I’m just trying to
get something to eat. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. It’s all my
fault. Could any one please help? Excuse me, pardon me. Excuse
me, pardon me.”
Do not touch me. “Excuse me. Pardon me…”
He doesn’t have AIDS. Actually he might, but I doubt it. He’s
probably on crack, or meth. I am not paying for that. Then
again, it might be the only thing he’s got, the only pleasure,
the only salvation. Why should I care if he fucks himself
up? It’s his choice. Who am I to decide what he does? Then
again, I can’t even pay my own rent. “The other begins
with the self.”
“Four…teen…th street…Trans…fer...to the 2 or…” Why can’t
they fix the goddamn speaker? Could this guy spread his
legs any wider? Does he truly have no clue that I’m sandwiched
between two of the fattest New Yorkers ever? Fine, I’ll just
push my leg into his. It’s all right for him to get too close to
me, but he’ll hate when I get too close to him. “The
space of the metropolitan rapid transit is…to the point of
inspiring a certain number of behaviors.”
“I’m gonna punch her in da face. Lord help me, because I am
not a violent person, but I’m gonna punch her in da face. That
bitch told her dat I told Debreese about Janelle and I never
told her notin.’ I never told her shit.” Somebody make her
shut up. “So many personages…magnified.”
“Twenty-th…Str..ee..t.” “This is a message from the New York
City Police: Keep you and your belongings safe. And, remember,
if you see something suspicious, say something.” I see
something suspicious every single day. Fear tactics. Police
state. Fine, search my bag. Search it you macho patriarchal
pigs. Search my bag, and see my dirty underwear. "In the metro…life cannot be lived in a total freedom.”
“Thir…Fourth.. Stre…Penn..Sta….Transf……” God, I hate this
station. It stinks like school pizza, popcorn, and that mall
smell. Malls are the worst. Why do kids spend so much time at
the mall? Why did I? Thank god, New York doesn’t really have
malls. Actually there is that one on 33rd
Street. And, that new one at Columbus Circle. I’ll never go to
that monstrosity. I hate malls. They give me the suburban life
creeps. I will never live in the suburbs. Growing up there was
like growing up in a mall bought Tupperware container. The
only way out was to crawl through that little opening at the
top. “Certain subway stations are associated with…
moments of my life… thinking about or meeting the name prompts
me to page through my memories.”
“Fiftieth Str….” Business crowd. How do people work
in Midtown? Nice facelift. Does she not know that it’s so
obvious? She must be about seventy. I do not want to be
old. But, I will surely never do that to myself. Probably some
Upper East Side rich lady. Like the kind whose husband has lots
of money and lots of affairs. Stop staring at me. She knows that
I know. She knows that I know that she’s cut up her face. I hate
her. She’s smiling at me. Okay, I don’t hate her. Maybe she’s a
nice lady, and just wants to look pretty. She’s kind
of pretty…for how old she is. “The presence of a
face…wakening our recognition.”
“Six..ty…Sixth…Street...Move all the way into the car…so…we..can…
le..ave..the…st…ation.” “Good mornin’ folks. It’s rainin’
outside, but the sun’s light is shinin’ inside. And, if you like
our light, show it wit your pennies, nickels, dimes, or
dollars. And, remember…smile…it won’t mess up your hair. This
little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light
of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” Harmonies are pretty good,
but they don’t look homeless. I wonder if they’re homeless. I
wonder how much money they make. Maybe they make more than I
do. Maybe. Tourists love this crap. They are obviously
tourists. No New York adult in their right mind wears Pooh Bear
on their shirt. Probably from the Mid-West. Scary. I’d kill
myself if I had to live there. The lady across from me is
rolling her eyes at them. I bet she’s ridden this train her
whole life. A true New Yorker I bet. Yeah, I’d kill myself if I
had to live there. “There cannot be a
society…‘that doesn’t feel the need to uphold and to affirm over
and again, at regular intervals, the collective feelings and
ideas that constitute its unity and personality.’”
“Listen up brother. Unless you want da black man to go down
another flight of da stairs. Yeah, da black man he’s been fallin’
down da stairs. But, listen up brother. It’s time for da black
man to rise up. To rise up. To rise up to his other brother. To
respect his mother brother. To rise up. Do not be a slave to the
other man brother.” I can’t take this shit this early. He
certainly has more problems than the white man. I wonder if my
family ever owned slaves? I certainly hope not. No, we’re from
the North. Actually grandpa’s family was from Virginia. Maybe
his family owned slaves. No, no way. No way. “We all have
our points of reference, our own pasts that can be as different
as our presents.”
“Eigh..ty…Si… Streeeet.” Why would anyone bring a bike
into the subway? I can understand a dog, but a bike? I’d hate to
be blind. Especially in New York. I wonder if she can see a
little bit? Shadows? Colors? Anything? Is that guy going to
sleep there the entire day? Could that lady possibly shut her
kid up? I wonder where she’s from? Mexico? No. Nicaragua?
Honduras? She looks like my neighbor. Is it my neighbor? Is that
her boyfriend? His toenails are disgusting. Why can’t people
take care of their toes? God, at least cover them up. “The
cohabitation of [the] diverse.”
“One hun…dr…d..thi…rd.” Did I bring my Spanish book? Man,
I left it at home. Damn. Maybe Eric can bring it up to me. No,
he’s too busy. Damn. “Please help me…please help
me….anything…please help me.” Oh god, she looks terrible. Now
she probably has AIDS. Is she going to just lie there? Please do
not come over to me. How did she get like that? Maybe no one
ever loved her. Or her dad…I can’t deal with this. Is she just
going to lie there? She needs more than money. Does she have any
friends? Family? Anything? She smells like piss. I can’t believe
I forgot my Spanish book. I am glad that I am not her. I wish I
could help her, give her a bath, or some food. No, I would not
bring her into my house. She might steal, or worse yet, never
leave. I’m going to cry. No I’m not. It’s only a Spanish
book. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s her. “Surely
it is our own life that we confront in taking the subway, and in
more than one way.”
“One hun…dred…Si..tee…Col…um…ia…Uni…ity…Stand….Clea…r…of…the Clo…sing…Doors.” Get
me the hell out of here. “Nothing is so individual…as a
single trip in the subway.”*
*All
bold quotes from In the Metro, by Marc Auge. Translation by Tom
Conley. (Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota Press,
2002).
of the closing doors...