Tuesday, June 07, 2005

My Subway Fantasy

Collecting my backpack from my lap, I exit the Local Train at 96th Street amidst the crush of 7:30 AM commuters who want to get onto the Express Track. Ah, there's one waiting at the station. Quick, jam myself in through the door...


... as my nose is involuntarily thrusted by the force of someone else's elbow in my back right into this preacher-fucker's armpit.

Now I'm clinging onto a pole for dear life, while this man is yelling, nay, screaming into my very face about how homosexuals are sinners, how God is going to destroy me until I die, all while I just want to stand there, read my article/novel and drink my coffee in peace and fucking quiet, because it is my right to have peace and fucking quiet on my ride to work every morning at 7:30 AM. It is my inalienable right as a citizen of the United States to have peace and fucking quiet on the subway on my ride to work in the morning.

And sure, he might be right, I might burn in hell for eternity for all of my grievous sins. But at 7:30 in the morning, I'd rather endure the fiery thumb-screws of Hades being clamped unmercifully around my you-know-what than to have to listen to this guy screaming at us.

I just wanted to stand straight up to this guy, look him right in that cockeyed, bloodshot, slightly-off eye and say:

"Will you please just be quiet or go to another car right now? No one here wants to listen to you. No one here cares what you have to say. We just want you to be quiet and to go away. Can I have some support here, please? (looking around to fellow passengers, who nod their heads and fervently say "Yeah!" in agreement, knives darting from their eyes in dotted lines toward the stunned preacher-fucker, as I wave my arms around in little circles to whoop-up more momentum)."

To anything he tries to start and say, I fix my gaze upon his eyes and mantrically repeat, "Be Quiet." The words "Be Quiet" become a small chant, and soon the entire train car starts enforcing its collective will on this guy with the chant, "Be Quiet, Be Quiet, Be Quiet, Be Quiet!" until I grab him under the soft part of the arm and say, "Here, I'll even escort you to the door, sir," as the other standing passengers magically part-like-the-Red-Sea to let me bring this guy out of our car.

And no one quits till the guy is safely off the car, at which point the thunderous applause commences, whooping and whistling and slaps on the back, and I wave to the general commuting populace of this great city with a gregarious smile and the line, "Thanks, everyone. I'm going to read my book and drink my coffee now, in peace and fucking quiet."

Tomorrow, if that guy is on my train, I'm going to do it for real.


At 12:17 PM, June 07, 2005, Blogger Elayne said...

I don't think a "Be Quiet" mantra would work, as the Jesus freak would take that as an excuse to rant on even more about how "you refuse to hear the word of the Savior, that proves even more that you need to listen, it's Satan that makes you close your ears!" yadda yadda. I read a very funny blog post awhile ago from a woman who decided she wasn't going to put up with this any more and she threatened to start - SINGING SHOW TUNES! A very worthwhile read.

At 1:06 PM, June 07, 2005, Blogger Chazarmaveth said...

elayne -- thanks for that link, it quite clearly dramatizes all of the hesitations i have had the past few mornings about actually saying something to these fuckers -- will it actually effectively restore the much-sought-after peace and quiet on the subway, or will it start up a whole new, even more annoying hubbub? probably the latter, right? maybe i should just start brushing up on my showtunes...


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