Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Subway Car Confessions

Reason #147 why there is no place like New York. After a fruitless afternoon of shopping, I found myself on a crowded subway car, homeward bound. Standing all straphanger-like, I was minding my own business while pretending to be enthralled by an above Budweiser advertisement, when I suddenly heard a raspy voice whisper, "Daayum. You have got the perfect body." I glanced down to see an attractive black girl licking her lips, staring at me. My jaw dropped, and I pointed to myself, mouthing, "Me?" I will never forget the 10 minutes that ensued for as long a I live: 

Girl: Mmhmmm. You got some cuuurves. (As she traced an invisible hourglass with her well manicured hands.) Mmhmm. You got a perfect body, girl.

It hadn't yet registered that this woman might have been hitting on me. Naive New Yorker that I am, I assumed she was simply very outgoing, friendly and appreciative of other women. Bear in mind that I had just tried on a pair of too-tight, too-low jeans and was not feeling very fond of the junk in my trunk, muffin top and all. So her compliments were more than welcome. I felt my face flush crimson, as I fumbled over my words.

Me: Wow. Stop! Thank you! That's very sweet of you to say. You honestly just made my day.
Girl: Ooh yeah, you like them meat and potatoes, girl. Your booty, mmhmm, I just wanna lay you down... you got a boyfriend?

It then occurred to me that she likes girls. Tugging on my sweater, I began to feel slightly uncomfortable, what with the way she was looking me up and down. It was as if I'd somehow walked onto the train, forgetting to wear pants.

Me: No, no boyfriend.
Girl: You got a girlfriend?
Me: No.
Girl: You want a girlfriend?
Me: No, thanks. I prefer boys.
Girl: Alright, that's cool. So where you from?
Me: Kansas City.
Girl: I knew it! I knew she ain't from around here. They don't grow 'em like that here. (Gesturing to a tall, slightly nerdy guy behind me.) See?? He be peepin' at you, girl! She from Kansas! Meat and potatoes! She be thick, mmhmm. I just wanna stick a chicken wing up her... look at her, she blushin'! I guess they don't have lesbians in Kansas!

At this point, people were starting to stare. The tall guy behind me seemed delighted to be dragged into this unexpected conversation. Slightly offended at the term thick and rather confused-slash-appalled about the chicken wing, I went into defense mode. 

Me: Yes, we do... one of my best friends back home likes girls. But I don't like that you called me thick.
Girl: Don't worry, you ain't fat, you perfect. I'mma take you to dinner. (Gesturing to a larger woman a foot away.) Now that one, she fat. But you, you're not fat.
Me: Shhh!!! Don't say that! She'll hear you...
Girl: She don't care. She know she big.
Me: But... but you'll hurt her feelings...
Girl: Eh, it's alright. See, I'm a renegade. Always causing drama. My fiancé is mad at me 'cause I got a girlfriend on the side. He don't like that. But I'm a renegade. So it's cool. I'm just honest.

Ignoring the fact that the attention of the entire car was on us, I found myself intrigued... 

Me: Yeah, I respect that. By the way, you have great hair.
Girl: Oh, this? Thanks, I just bought it yesterday! $150 a pack.
Me: Oooh, um... how many packs are in your head?
Girl: Three. I sewed 'em in myself. It's curly now, but I can straighten it, do whatever.

At this point, we were nearing my stop. It was time to say good-bye. 

Girl: I'll see you later. I won't forget you, Kansas.
Me: Oh, I won't forget you either...

Only in New York, kids. Only in New York.
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