Freakjobs.
8:55AM, a large, black man, steps into the train at Lawrence. He yells for some peace and quiet, breathes like he wants the entire car to know he's there. Then says something like he can't even chase a woman, I can't say exactly because I wasn't paying much attention at first, with Superdrag singing post-teen angst in my ear, SPIN on my lap with the "hottest 25 concerts to see NOW!".
He yells Jacksonesque tone about how everyone would inevitably die, and there would be no escape, that we're all cockroaches "and some roachier than others!"; that this city is full of faggots and "we'll do you like you do each other" (which kinda gave away the root of all this hatred, the closet). After a few minutes that, especially after he stopped walking back and forth across the train and sat right in front of me, I had to pause the music.
Now, I'm not exactly a weightlifter, but I rarely feel threatened, due to my third world perception of a threat; if somebody's not wearing rags, I tend to think they're not about to mug you. But here, hatred is more dangerous than mugging. This constant pressure to label every single thing makes people truly believe that's all there is to life, and a lot of times, if you're already prone to be a freakjob, that's the direction you'll point your anger. I felt threatened.
Especially when, about one stop later, he laughed, talked how we'll all die and reached down to the bottom of his pants' leg, pulled it up all the way to his knee. I seriously thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot at random. That's when me and 15 other people walked out of the car and into the next one, quite distressed.
I would call the train operator, except he could see me from there, so I preferred to tell myself it's alright and just get to work. Strange way to start the day, though.
He yells Jacksonesque tone about how everyone would inevitably die, and there would be no escape, that we're all cockroaches "and some roachier than others!"; that this city is full of faggots and "we'll do you like you do each other" (which kinda gave away the root of all this hatred, the closet). After a few minutes that, especially after he stopped walking back and forth across the train and sat right in front of me, I had to pause the music.
Now, I'm not exactly a weightlifter, but I rarely feel threatened, due to my third world perception of a threat; if somebody's not wearing rags, I tend to think they're not about to mug you. But here, hatred is more dangerous than mugging. This constant pressure to label every single thing makes people truly believe that's all there is to life, and a lot of times, if you're already prone to be a freakjob, that's the direction you'll point your anger. I felt threatened.
Especially when, about one stop later, he laughed, talked how we'll all die and reached down to the bottom of his pants' leg, pulled it up all the way to his knee. I seriously thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot at random. That's when me and 15 other people walked out of the car and into the next one, quite distressed.
I would call the train operator, except he could see me from there, so I preferred to tell myself it's alright and just get to work. Strange way to start the day, though.