In bizarro world. So, imagine a NYC train car. One of the new ones from the 2 train. (If you're not from here, imagine a SLIGHTLY clean train car with white lighting and light blue "benches" running the length of the cars.). It's 9:20pm-ish. The car is not too full. The seats are mostly taken, but there are a few more spots. No one is standing. There are mothers with children. Couples on dates. A man trying to read a newspaper across from me. I was trying to review my notes from class. Three ghetto-black, male early 20-somethings are having a yelling-conversation. You know what I mean: "i could just talk, but I'm going to shout, son, so the whole car can hear us."
All about fucking. All about putting women in their place.
"Son, she's hairy..hairy like a nigga, son, you know what I mean son, she better shave that ass befo she get some. fuck that"
"i love those highschool girls. ya get um over and they do anything you tell em, and if they dont, just kick them out of the apartment. Dont care if they have clothes on or not"
"Son, you know so and so...her ass is so fine. I fucked that bitch so hard. "
"I wanna get so and so. Id fuck her and wake up next to her, and she'd put on those tight red panties. Id tell that bitch to get up and make me breakfast, son. Then I'd fuck her in the ass"
"you gotta keep yo women in line. none of this love stuff. lets fuck and be friends you know? if she say I love you, just hit her. then fuck her and she knows who's in charge."
IM NOT EVEN KIDDING. this is just part of the "exact as I can remember them" quotes. And these guys were going on and on and on. The whole car was quiet except for these assholes. So, this is what I meant by a Stacy Pershall moment. I dont often find myself in situations where people are asshole animals. But it's exactly the sort of train car my good friend would find herself in. And I imagined that if I were her, I would have something poignant and intelligent (yet angry) to say to them. But since I wasnt, I was going to try and review which fossa the trochlear process fit into and pretend none of them existed.
As I walked the 7 blocks home, I was torn between moving to the boon-docks or volunteering to rescue all the disadvantaged women from the city by moving them to a happy island far far away.
I know guys talk about girls and girls talk about guys. And sometime people are trying to impress their friends, but this wasnt like that. Im not a writer. I cant truly capture the moment at all. But im still very upset.