Dead Shark Still Better Than 90% Of Things You Find On The Subway

About three summers ago I was on a Manhattan-bound L train, itchy and irritated in the way that all New Yorkers are when they’re ready to get back to the city, when we pulled up at the Bedford Avenue stop and, among the throngs of other people desperate to escape Brooklyn, an extremely white woman stepped into my car. I don’t mean “extremely white” in the sense of “loves ‘Girls’ and artisanal lavender bitter chocolate with hot peppers in it,” although, this being Williamsburg, I cannot rule that out either, but that not only was her entire outfit, down to the boots, completely white, her face and body were sprayed with white paint as well. It was a ridiculously hot day and the car’s cooling system was unreliable, and as White Woman approached the pole I was holding on to, my first thought was, “Oh, fuck, is this lady gonna sweat white paint on me?” My second thought, much later, after I was safely back in town and in a comfortable, air-conditioned environment, was, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU that you can see a woman completely bedecked in ivory and it registers as so unremarkable to you that your only concern is whether or not it will inconvenience your person?” But I suppose that is part of living in this town. Nothing really surprises you, because you’ve seen it all and your focus is on getting where you need to go as quickly and efficiently as possible. Still, I’ve gotta say, I would probably be a little put off by a dead shark on the subway. On the other hand, I’m just as likely to think, “Ugh, another viral marketing campaign,” and head to the other end of the car, so I guess I can’t really assess my possible reaction with any degree of certainty. That’s what New York does to you, I guess.