I posted some events going on in the next few weeks, if you’re not busy, come out to them, and look for them on Facebook and myspace when I get around to updating..

I was waiting at the Broadway-Lafayette platform (again) on a Thursday night and had Csokolom blasting from my headphones. My headphones, by the way (Audio-technica ATH-ES7s) are so awesome that not only could I not hear anything on the platform, but nobody was forced to join in my folk music fun, either.

More for me.

I was reading more musicology text from my class, when a woman approaches the bench – I didn’t really hear what she said, and figured that she was either a)insane or b)a homeless person. I watched her lips move a little while longer, and decided that she was too well dressed and too persistent to be panhandling, so I removed my headphones and heard her say:

“I told the attendants to call 911 twice but nobody’s come yet and he’s rolling around on the floor, I don’t know, he could fall in the tracks or something.”

Well, shit, the train will REALLY be delayed then. The girl sitting next to me, in reaction to this woman, took her phone out and tried to dial 911. I turned to her:

“..you get reception down here?”
“Uh, no, I mean, it says ’emergency call,’ maybe it’s actually doing something.”

Having reached my personal limit of how much I can talk to strange women, we both got up from the bench and walked down the platform toward a kid who looked like he was in his twenties, wearing a black v-neck tee shirt, skinny jeans and brass studded Chucks – he was perspiring, staring out in front of himself and rolling around on the tile –

“He must be tripping or something.”
“He’s responding, but he needs to go to the hospital.”
“What a shitty place to crash.”

The guy turns onto his side, drools on the tile and shuts his eyes.

“I hope he’s all right – why hasn’t anyone come yet?”
“Go MTA.”

The D train pulls in and doesn’t run over the guy -and the girl and I board – a man on the train cranes his head to look at the man. The train waits in the station open a few minutes, and the conductor screams indifferently over the intercom:

“Someone get the police, please…”

The kid gags, still lying on his side.

“Oh shit, he’s gonna puke.”
“At least he won’t choke.”

I don’t know who the guy was, a friend told me he was having a seizure – but how many times have I been out late, how many times have I drank a lot and went home alone? Even though there is a lot of obvious preventive steps when it comes to being safe in the city (i.e. not being stupid, for one,) there’s always that really small chance that somethign really terrible could happen.

A couple nights later, the subway cleaning team was hosing down the spot where the kid was.

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