“Hey, are you okay, young man? Those steps are totally stupid – the way they’re laid out, aren’t they? You think you’re on the last one and then there’s another. It’s so stupid!”
“Thanks for your concern, ma’am, but it’s not the steps. I’m wearing my dad’s shoes today, and they’re too big for me, so I’ve been tripping over stuff all day.”
– momish lady and teenager, F train, 4th Ave and 9th St, Brooklyn
A zitty young man approaches a group of three young women on the F train platform at 4th Avenue, Brooklyn:
“Hey, you girls are speaking Spanish, right?”
“Yes.”
“Where you from?”
“Mexico”
“And, now you’re in America, huh?”
“Yes… we are.”
“Um, uh, that’s neat.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, some o y’all know me and some o’ y’all don’t. My name is Jamal Simmons but I also go by the name of ‘New York’s Candy Man’. Candy is 50c each or 2 for $1, you do the math. The candy that I have is Welch’s fruit snacks. Anyone care to buy? Selling more candy means more candy for sale. If I could make a real livin’ outta this, I would. Help a brotha along with his career, wontcha?”
Two charming young men on the A train at Fulton Street, Manhattan:
“Yo, ma n—a be tellin me about this shorty he smackin’ wit'”
“Which n—a?”
“You know my n—a Rayvon, right?”
“Yeah, I know the n—a.”
“Well, he be sayin’ that he be smackin’ on like cloud 9 with this new shorty he got named Rhondelle. Doin’ all kinds o’ nasty shit wit’ her.”
“Aw snap, that n—a always talkin about ho’s he smackin’! He be frontin, yo, no doubt.”
“Na’ he aint, n—a! He for real. I know it. He be gettin’ it poppin’ a whole lot.”
“Oh yeah, how you know that for sure. You seen him wit’ her?”
“Nah, but ‘dat n—a don’t lie to me. We known each other for years!”
“Word, whatever man… Hey, wait, uh, uh, ‘aint yo’ cousin’s name Rhondelle?”
A very pale, black-clad couple at 23rd Street in Manhattan on the C train:
“So, when I walked in and I heard this Goth music playing, I was totally intimidated because really all I wanted to do was stroll around the shop and then casually go up to her and tell her how much I liked her writing.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well, I bought some incense and then walked out.”
“Where was this?”
“Vegas, of all places.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. You know that the city in the US with the most head shops is Albuqerque, NM? Interesting tidbit, right?”
“What makes you think this was a headshop? The incense?”
“Um, yeah I guess.”
“Well, actually, for your information, it was a nonprofit coffee house and it had all these neat, old pinball machines and a life-size statue of Mike Tyson.”
A variety of message tees worn by under-25s as seen on the subway:
“It’s not that I forget, it’s that I don’t care.”
“News flash: I don’t care.”
“I wouldn’t f—k you for practice.”
“Who ‘dis giant-ass n—a and where’d he come from?”
“Oh, that’s my brother Marquise. He’s six feet eight and he’s been here the whole time.”