Taking the subway in the morning can really be an adventure. We are talking tiny adventures, nothing too wild, adventures of the mind, triggered by observations. Somebody screams sometimes, somebody smells nice or strange, or both, there is an unusual conversation sometimes or a moment of intimacy across subway cars, or some other wild shapes and forms of human interaction.
Each ride has its own second of fame.
Today’s special split second happened as I was leaving the Subway station on 50th street. The stairs there are very old and steep. Everybody seems to be in a rush. Even more so if there is one person is not as fast as the others. The person in front of me was a bit slower. I first saw the big backpack. Then I saw the low-cut jeans, very, very low cut. Then I saw the hairy behind of this person, there was the kind of hair chimpanzees tend to have on the backs of their hands. And then, to top it all, there was the g-string. A pulled up, blackish, older, skimpy piece of underwear on this 20 something guy with a backpack and a very hairy butt. I just turned around. I was not alone. Next to me were at least two other New Yorkers staring at this guy’s butt. It was just a split second. We all started laughing at the same time. And there was the end of the stairs, there we went, each one of us in their own direction after this tiny urban jungle moment.