What's Going On?
I once looked out my window in
Sometimes I think
And yet three times this week I have somehow involved myself in racist altercations.
1. My bus driver from
“You have to get it when you buy the ticket,” he said. I asked again and said I'd wait outside so the other passengers could get off. He ignored me and finally came down the steps and got right up in my face. Suddenly he was moving in slow-motion, brimming with rage and about to strike. I realized we were alone in the parking lot. I noticed my face smiling, as if I was relaxed, and my body slowly pivoting sideways, as if to protect such things as my nose and testicles. It occurred to me that I have never pushed or punched a black person, though I have been pushed and punched by them, and that I probably never will. In this case, it wasn't just because he was a driver and I'd be looking at seven years in the brig, and it wasn't just from fear.
"Why didn't you ask for a receipt when you got on the bus?" he said in a tropical cadence that in other circumstances would be soothing.
“I didn’t think of it,” I said, pointing to my head like a madman. “I’m sorry.”
He climbed back on the bus and got me a receipt. He even wrote “Decamp” on it, which I thought he was telling me was his name before I remembered that was the name of the bus company. A few days later I called Decamp to get a refund. The supervisor was white and sounded a bit excited by the story. He asked if I was related to Gerry Cooney, the boxer known as the “Great White Hope” till he fizzled 20 years ago. "It'll all be on video!” he said. “We got one camera inside, one outside because people always claim they flag the bus down when they don't. Write a letter to our president and tell him you talked to Bobby A." I felt guilty that the Rasta-man might be out of a job. I still haven't written the letter.
2. I was riding north to
"You shut up," said the West Indian lady. "Don't talk to me like that. I've been riding this train for 30 years."
“Yeah, a cattle car is what you're used to, lady. Riffraff. Go fuck yourself."
How could we all stand by without taking sides? There was a half-minute of silence, then I volunteered, "She's reading Forbes magazine, so we're all riffraff to her."
The crowd didn’t react. The West Indian looked up at me, trying to gauge which side I’d landed on. "Huh?" she asked.
I repeated it. She nodded, happy for the support. "Lady," she said, "if you think you're better than us, you should call 777-7777 and get a limo!"
"Shut up, you bitch!"
An Albanian woman who had moved to
When the West Indian woman got off, she called out, "Ok, this is my stop." She raised her hand as if waving from a float. I stroked her back.
The white woman got off at
3. Last night I was riding the L train under the East River from
On the bench across from me was a fat white woman sitting beside a Mayan woman who in our land would meet the 4-feet-10 threshold to qualify as a dwarf. The Mayan apparently was coughing, although I didn't notice. I was listening to sound of my own voice on my headphones, a recording I made of thoughts while walking across
"You should cover your mouth when you cough, you know?" said the white woman. She looked a little drunk, accent of a
The Mayan smiled at first, assuming at first that when two strangers talk it is friendliness. Even if she didn't get all the words, though, she could see the woman was getting angry.
"It's common courtesy to cover your mouth, instead of coughing all over people.” She mimed out the difference between someone coughing into the crook of an elbow and someone coughing into the air.
The Mayan looked confused, then said, “I know.”
The seated woman glared right at her, through the metal bars. “You fucking bitch."
"Hey!" I said. "Settle down over there."
She looked stunned, as if slapped. Her eyes big. "Mind your own fucking business. She was coughing on me. Anywhere in the world you're supposed to cover your mouth."
"Just get up and move," I said. "It's not a big deal. Let it go."
"Shut up. I don't know how they do it in
That got a genuine laugh out of me, since I had moved back to
She was standing now, fulminating as she moved to exit the train. She was still glaring at me, and just before she left the train, she said, "Welcome to
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