It was a typical New York subway ride for me yesterday morning, which of course meant that there were:
Umpteen slick stockbroker types tapping away on their BlackBerries in a possibly coke-addled state!
Rowdy teens! (I think I’m more afraid of teenagers than I am of anyone else on the subway; they’re hormonal, impulsive, and always showing off for each other. Not a good combination.)
A man (from a place adorably named “The Balloon Saloon”) carrying a GINORMOUS bag of helium-filled balloons twisted together to look like flowers!
Nervous-looking tourists, crowded over a tiny, laminated subway map! (I could practically SEE the collective thought bubble dancing above their heads, like so many puffy white clouds. The knitted brows, crossed arms and hands draped protectively across their Nikons are all universal tourist body lanuage for: “Is this how it’s all going to end for us? Are we going to get knifed and/or mugged? Right here? In broad daylight?”)
Two women (who clearly commute and work together) complaining about their boss and then, randomly, Victoria “Beckman"! I initially thought Victoria was another of their colleagues, but one of the women helpfully elaborated that she is “The Spice Girl girl with the fake tits married to the soccer player.” (Incidentally, they don’t like her because: “Who does she think she is? The Queen?”)
3 normal people! (I humbly include myself in that group.)
A very pregnant lady who IS STANDING BECAUSE THE COKEHEAD STOCKBROKERS ARE PRETENDING NOT TO SEE HER SO THEY CAN KEEP THEIR SEATS. I SEE YOU, ASSHOLES! (Gah. I see this constantly and it irks me to no end.)
And!
I’m sure it will not surprise you at all to know that the crowd of people on my subway car included a hobo making his way through the crowd.
You may have noticed that I haven’t been posting about them as much as I used to. That’s not due to any increased maturity on my part; goodness, no. Rather, it’s due to the simple fact that the real crazies haven’t been around Manhattan all summer; I have no idea where they went (a cottage in Nantucket? A summer share in Southampton, perhaps?), but in any case, the hobos are back, my friends, and they are bringing it something FIERCE. Tyra’s bitches ain’t got nothing on them.
This particular dude was grimy as hell, but seemed relatively harmless, by which I mean he was only talking to himself, as opposed to sharing his particular world view with us (as "my" hobos are wont to do).
And then.
Apropos of nothing, he decided to give us a little performance.
And by “little performance,” I mean unbuckling his pants stripper style for some reason, so that we got juuuuust a glimpse of his hobo ass, and then treating us to a song. The song, which he performed in an unnatural and creepy falsetto, was nonsensical, and centered around words that end with “un”. I tried desperately to surreptitiously write down as many as I could on a crumpled receipt, but all I got was something about how he was in training to be a nun/can he have some money for a sticky bun. The tourists, possibly fearing for their lives, clapped over-enthusiastically.
WHY IS NO ONE EVER WITH ME WHEN THESE THINGS HAPPEN?
In other news, I cannot believe this or this.
Now, I NEVER post first thing in the morning, so...um...have a smashing, hobo free-day!
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19 comments:
You're terrified by teenagers and I'm terrified by hobos who take their clothing off. I mantain that I'd rather deal with impuslive teenagers than see the nether regions of a homeless person. Or do the ones in NY not get naked as frequently as the ones in DC?
I would comment on the hobo song, but I'm too busy hating the bride who's high-strung enough to sue over the wrong color of flowers. And also crazy enough to spend $27,000 on flowers in the first place. I've never gotten married, but still... $27,000?!? Is that even remotely close to normal?? Good lord, I hope not.
Ah ha. I so was that touristy group last year in New York. First time and all being on a "real" NY subway. And no, I do not count the Metro or Bart in SF as the same thing.
If I was to go back, I would so be more cool.
VB was in the house? What was her reaction to the hobo??
You should send this post to NYC's tourism board. Actually, I do kind of want to see coke-addled stockbrokers. That's a stereotype I didn't know still existed! I have seen NYC investment bankers in real life, but they just looked really tired.
I'd say something about someone claiming the difference of pastel versus rust colored flowers is a "breach of contract" worth suing over or that it's insane that she really thinks they deserve $400,000 for it, but I'm too busy wondering what kind of nut buys $27,000 worth of flowers to use on one single day.
You get to have all the fun!
i get awesome performances like that every time i ride the toronto subway too...
I think I need to come to NYC.
one of my best friends owns a florist. i referred celia's ex-babysitter to her for her wedding.
even though, the ex-babysitter received a HUGE deal because of me, she called after the honeymoon to complain, "i cried every day of my honeymoon because i had weeds (aster) and gerber daisies in my arrangements."
i shit you not.
i feel sorry for her new husband.
I've so been one of the tourists on the NY subway. Although, I only had a crappy Kodak Camera.
(Oh, and I just found your blog recently...will be back to read more!)
I wish we had hobos here! It sounds so exciting.
I got married on an island and I asked our coordinator if it was possible to import one of my favorite flowers, Peonies. When I got there, she informed me that she had no luck getting a bouquet of PANSIES. Well, thank goodness for that! I still laugh at the thought of a Pansy bouquet.
Yes, what is with people not giving up their seats anymore? Young people are supposed to give their seats to old people, non-pregnant people to the pregnant, perfectly healthy to someone with -- I don't know -- one leg, and men to women. (I know reasonable people can disagree on the last one, but I'm a woman and I want to sit, so I'm sticking with it.)
I am a lawyer, and my florist sent me a bouquet of DYED HOT PINK CARNATIONS(!!!!) instead of the pale pink peonies I ordered. I had the photographer shoot pictures of me destroying the nasty bouquet and my coordinator made me a new one from centerpieces. This lady is giving lawyers a bad name, and we certainly don't need any more help in that department.
I think all the NY hobos have been visiting their hobo friends who live in Philly.
I totally want to work at "The Balloon Saloon." Especially if I get to carry a stash of them on a NY subway.
Oh, and: have you ever heard Billy Bob Thorton's song "Hobo"? You HAVE to look it up and listen to it. HAVE to. Actual line: "Momma used to feed the hobos. Now I'm a hobo." Chris sing is ALL the time, and I cry for laughing EVERY time.
Not only do you need a witness to corroborate your story, but next time, TAKE A PICTURE!
I would so sove to see that, as our hobos in MN tend to hide under bridges so we only occasionally see them, like when they fall asleep in broad daylight on abandoned furniture.
I don't believe any of this. I'm with Whiskey Marie on the need for photos ;)
My husband I just visited "your town" last weekend. And I have to tell you, everytime we got on the subway, I looked around to see if there was anyone that looked like you. Unfortunately I didn't. But I had to tell you that our group of seven had three men and they couldn't get a woman to take their seat. Being the gentlemen from the south that they are, they couldn't just sit there while women stood up. I realize that we probably weren't riding when you did. And we did see our share of hobo's. And mostly, I think, we were amazed at how nice and friendly the people we came in contact with were. We had heard things through the media, etc. to the contrary. This was our first trip, but not our last.
And I will probably look for you on the subway again next time!
:) I do believe the whole story. Truth, after all, is stranger than fiction. I wish you could have videotaped the song (not the striptease, though). No camera phone?
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