Combing for Terrorists

by Pat Greene

    Three weeks ago tomorrow, at precisely 5:10 a.m., I  commenced my role as watchdog for The New York City Subway System. There  is no official code book of rules when it comes to combing for terrorists.  Common sense is a basic intuitive belonging that each of us believes we posses but as people differ, so too does rationality and degrees of intelligence - so how well equipped I am in this area is something that I am not at liberty to swear to.
    I have been riding city-operated transportation for sixteen years now but it was only recently that I began fearing for my very life, every time I either boarded a bus or took that initial step inside a subway station. I could blame this very disturbing scenario on the fact that I am getting older and older people seem to have a greater sense of what it is about life that we are so eager to hold onto. I am not alone in my quest either, for I have been noticing, that for every person that I take it upon myself to watch, there are also several that watch me, even if most of them are thinking to themselves that I am an undercover cop.
    For years, my fellow commuters have these preconceived notions that I am one of NYC's finest, riding the subways trying to flush out crime. I have to admit that I look like a cop. I am 6'2" and I weigh about 220 pounds. I have that sullen look about me that cops seem to be trained to show and an air of self confidence oozes from me. I  have always been proficient in hiding my fears. There was a time when I feared nothing, but once my oldest son was born and suddenly I had something to lose, I became a wimp with a false attitude - well a man always needs something to hang his pride on.
    The belief is, if you stay away from the rush hour commutes, you will have less apples to eat for the dentist, so to speak. I  live in Marine Park in Brooklyn and I walk over to Flatbush each morning to catch the number 2 train that takes me to Nereid Avenue in The Bronx. I could catch the number 44
bus to Flatbush, but I am trying to lose weight so all I seem to be doing these days is walking. I have been on a diet for months now and all I seem to have lost is months. The ride on the subway takes about ninety minutes, so I always bring my Daily News for company. I know instinctively which car to sit in, so that when I get off the train at  the other end, the stairs down to the street are right there.
    As I stated earlier, I have been riding city transport for years and, for the most part, I have never seen anything that is  worth writing about. Prior to September 11th, your worst fear on the subway was getting mugged. If someone told you today that being mugged was the worst thing that could
happen to you on your daily commute, you would welcome the blessing of such a slight encumbrance, when you compare that to the insanity that has taken over our minds on a daily basis and has us never knowing what to expect and when.
    Right now, I am contemplating the difficult prospect of actually seeing a terrorist walking onto the train. What would I do? Would I be brave enough to confront him?  Or would I quietly get up and make my way through the train and as far away as possible, from this lunatic? I know nothing whatsoever about the mechanical make-up or of the dismantling procedures to a bomb. Walking away is not me, so I am going to do something.

Think Pat, think.
Well, he is much smaller than you are. Will you be able to knock him out with one punch? Maybe you can kick him in the nuts!
Don't panic Pat.
What if it's not a bomb in his backpack?
Jesus, you will be arrested for assault. The police are never going to believe that you were acting on the suspicion of terrorism.
But why is he sweating like that? It's got to be a bomb in that bag. Does anybody else see him but me?
Are you all fucking blind here? Hey, wake up, There's a terrorist on board.
Fuck it. Bang. Why did you hit the little guy?
He's a terrorist, moron!
Well, he doesn't look like a terrorist to me!
Oh yeah? Well, search his bag and you will see.
Are you OK there fella? You damn killed him. He's not moving.
Get out of my way. I'll search his bag!
Christ, I'm in trouble now. Well, what does he have in the bag, buddy?
A lot of wiring and shit! Jesus, I am going to get life for this! Don't look back, Pat.
Never again. Never-ever-ever-fucking again. I can't believe that I just did that-but the little bastard looked like a terrorist.
OK, I need coffee. There's a Dunkin' Donuts. Great. Fuck the terrorists.  

 

Pat Greene is a self-proclaimed regular Joe-soap from Brooklyn with aspirations of becoming a
published writer. He grew up in Ireland and has lived in NYC for almost seventeen years.