Commentary: A Simple Tale pt. 2
This morning, at the Columbia and Ontario stop of the 42, I took a seat next to an older gentleman on the bench of the bus shelter. I should’ve known this was a bad idea. I saw him executing dual snot-rockets on the sidewalk as I walked over and even though the shelter was crowded no one else was sitting next to him. These are always bad signs, but I was hot and lazy and didn’t feel like standing.
As I was putting on my headphones, the man said hi to me. I nodded at him. Right before I could turn my music on, he tapped me and said “See that guy across the street in the gray shirt? He’s a faggot.” So I cranked up The Blow to tune out his belly laughs.
Except I didn’t see any guy across the street in a gray shirt. Either this guy was stuffed to the gills with bigotry and I happened to get in the way of its release, or it was a spiteful stranger’s way of telling me “I’m pushing your buttons too, faggot.”
I always hope that in such situations I would bitch the bastard out. I should’ve yelled “There’s a faggot sitting next to you!” But I didn’t. I can barely get myself clothed in the early morning, let alone fire an extemporaneously elegant tell-off at a newly-met homophobe. So I guess I’ll be a hero next time.
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I’m usually so taken-aback by this kind of thing that all attempts at a witty bon mot goes to shit.
Something like, “You blew your nose on the sidewalk – I think you have bigger things to worry about” would have worked, but how do we think of that in the moment?
I’ve gotten to the point, though, where I usually smile or wave. Frequently in my life, I’ve gotten heckled by random passers-by, so I just flash a toothy grin while wearing my Sophia Loren sunglasses and skip merrily on my way.
I think you did the right thing. Strangers who are also bigots should be ignored..
There’s also the distinct possiblity that he was mentally ill. (You didn’t actually see the guy he was talking about, right? hmmm). In NY the ranting lunatics are often ranting about (1) God, (2) Sex, or (3) Those dirty, dirty queers. (Sounds like an evangelical church service, I know, but those good Christian people are all completely sane, so there’s no connection at all – ha.)
There was a deranged woman who hung out in Tomkins Square who would run up to probably-straight NYU girls and yell, “DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU EAT PUSSY?!?!”
I’ve always been interested in this correlation between mental illness and homophobia, but haven’t seen much written about it.
Hahaha…haha.. If I ever become a raving lunatic, I hope I’m that funny.
My favorite crazy-dude-on-a-bus story took place on the #5 Ride-On in Silver Spring: Some guy wearing stripes of red face paint plopped down next to me and offerred to read my palms. I declined, so he said he’d just read my face instead and proceeded to tell me, among other things that I “suffer from homosexual tendencies” and am “sexually unsatisfied.” Then he asked me if I was married. Awesome.
You sat next to him? That was brave! I tend to avoid things that make my nose tingle within a 1 mile radius, be they bums, or women enveloped in an aromatic perfumed shockwave.
I love fellow man, but if I can’t breathe, I tend to love my lungs a bit more.
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