F Train to Bergen Street

The doors open and two twentyish girls get on–both zaftig and mousy in different ways: one blonde and femmy–blue sundress, sneakers, oversized bird necklace–the other brunette and butch–shoulder-length non-haircut, awkward polo shirt, uncomfortable-looking jeans, low voice.  As soon as they sit down:

Sundress: Okay.  Top five careers for a man that you would never date.

Polo Shirt: (immediately) Race car driver.

Sundress: Why not a race car driver?

Polo Shirt: I just don’t like race car drivers.

Long pause.

Sundress: Comedian would be one of mine.

Polo Shirt: But if he’s good, and like–

Sundress: My thing is I hate when someone’s trying to be funny all the time.  Clown is definitely one of mine.

Polo Shirt: Party clown, yeah.  Party clowns have to be on all the time, it’s like, must be enthusiastic, must be easygoing.  I just read a job description for one.

They both yawn hugely, one right after the other.

Sundress: And Disney character, that’s out.  I hate those, all of those Easter bunnies and mascots.  I had a really bad experience when I was little.

Polo Shirt: Oh not me, I loved those.  I was all about Pooh.  There’s a picture of me hugging Tigger like (demonstrates a happy bear hug)!

Sundress: I hated them, I was really afraid of them.  There’s pictures of me at Disney with like, Sarah with her hands on my head like making me stand there while all these animals surrounded me.

Polo Shirt: Oh there’s pictures of me all like (demonstrates a happy bear hug), I was all about Tigger and Pooh.

Sundress: Yeah and who’s that other one, Eeyore?  Balloo?  I feel like it’s my parents’ fault.  I was entirely traumatized and that’s when I fully developed my hatred of salad.  We were there and they all gathered around me because I was the littlest one, thinking naturally that I would be the one who would be excited when in fact I was petrified and incredibly annoyed, because I was trying to eat this salad and they kept touching me, they kept touching my shoulders and I was trying to eat this salad and they kept touching me and touching me, and I was like leave me alone!

Polo Shirt: Oh.

Sundress: And there could be anyone in that suit, it could be an 85-year-old man in there!  I tried to get my mom to get them to leave me alone, I was like Mom!  And she was like, (demonstrates not paying attention).  I was traumatized.  I was traumatized.  And I still can’t eat salad.  Ask my parents, they remember me hating it.  Or probably not, I probably never said anything and I just spent years hating Disney and hating salad and they were like, Why do you hate salad? and then one day they were like, Let’s go back to Disneyworld, and I like burst into tears.  Probably it was more like that.  If I was one of those guys I would never put my hand on anybody.  No clowns.

Published in: on August 17, 2012 at 3:50 pm  Leave a Comment  

A Train between West 4th Street and High Street

Three twentysomething girls–variations on the theme of leggings, bubble tops and ballet flats–all wearing ID tags in plastic cases on lanyards around their necks, arranged maypole-style around a handrail by the subway door.

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: She’s nice, though.

Ponytail Girl: She’s nice, but if you entertain it, if you entertain it, she will do it all day.  Britney and me entertained it one day and we were hearing it all, day, long.  The whole story of her amazing life.  She has a driver.

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: But she’s a nice girl.

Totebag Girl: She is nice.

Ponytail Girl: Yeah, it’s not like the kind of thing where you’re like, I hate her.  It’s just, do we have to be having this conversation again?  Do we have to hear about your whole amazing life again?

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: But she’s nice.

Ponytail Girl: She’s nice.  She’s really full of herself.  She’s always showing pictures of herself in her bikini.  She was like, Do you guys want to go and work out sometime?  Me and Britney were like, we are not going near that girl with dumbbells.  And her ring, she kept showing it around after she got it.  It’s amazing.  That girl reeks of money.

Totebag Girl: What does he do?

Ponytail Girl: Financial.  But her family has money.

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: Did you see Kayla’s ring the other day when she–

Ponytail Girl: (vehement) Did you see it?  Did you see it?  It literally did not exist.  She had an engagement ring and a band and she was waving it around and it was nonexistent.  Nonexistent.

Totebag Girl: Some people don’t have–

Ponytail Girl: But she’s always pretending she’s loaded.

Totebag Girl: I know how she is, and it seems weird, but it makes more sense to me now that I know more people, and I know lots of little things about people.  The way you’re gonna say things to people.  How people are.


Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: I have a ring but I don’t wear it to school.

Ponytail Girl: Because you have a brain.

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: First of all I don’t wear it on the subway ever.  If we get dressed up I sometimes wear it.  Weddings and funerals, whenever Dave would wear a suit I sometimes wear it.  It’s, also it’s embarrassing, people think you have money and we don’t.

Totebag Girl: If you have it, there’s nothing wrong with it.

Ponytail Girl: True and everybody would like to have it.

Pink Plastic Glasses Girl: She’s really pretty nice.  She’s low key about everything.

Ponytail Girl: Someone was like, Oh she’s always so casual, and I was like, I don’t have money so I can tell you, those are the track pants of someone with money.  And that girl’s ring is amazing.  Ring of joy, is what that is.  Britney was saying it cost like fifty thousand dollars.  (Pause.)  I guess if you have a driver that’s no big deal.

Published in: on August 17, 2012 at 3:46 pm  Leave a Comment