Went into Manhattan to run some errands. Picked up some Muppet figures for Kathleen. Also picked up an antique that Harlan purchased which I’ll be shipping out to him shortly (yes, the dealer could have shipped it, but it’s complicated, so forget it.)
Riding the subway between destinations, I spotted an attractive young woman, preparing to get off the train. As a mental exercise, I tried to figure out what her deal was, particularly since she was a stark contrast to everyone else in the train. Perfect hair, perfect make-up. Black leather boots with stiletto heels, black leather skirt coming down to just above the knee, a pink bustier, a black knit kind of sweater thing with a fake fur collar, and a short black wool coat. And I’m thinking, “Okay…high priced call girl, model, or actress.” Then I spotted her large purse. It was clear plastic, all contents on display. So I figured, okay, this bag cries out “Look at me,” so I settled on either model or actress. Then I spotted a Samuel French play edition in the bag, along with several sheets of white paper tucked in. Actress on her way to…a class? A rehearsal? Way too dressed up for someone who’s already got the job. Plus she also had a pair of sneakers buried in the bag. She was on her way to one place where she was trying to look dressy and then was going to dress down afterward.
Answer seemed obvious.
Basically, all this went through my head in about five seconds. And as the doors opened and she started to walk past me, I said, “Good luck with your audition.” “Thank you!” she replied automatically. And then she did a double take as she stepped off the train, her face a question mark. At which point the doors closed.
I like messing with people. It’s also a good writing exercise. Observing people, seeing how much you can discern from their outward appearance. Helpful for doing character descriptions in your own writing.
Elementary.
PAD
• 
“But I guarantee you her first thought was “How does he know that?” and her second thought was “He must have been following me!” That is what would creep me out.”
Then she’d have to be five kinds of stupid considering I was already on the train when she got on, and didn’t get off the train when she got off.
Guys, I was perfectly pleasant about it, there was nothing threatening in my demeanor, she dressed in a way and carries a clear bag that practically screams “I’m an actress” to the world, there was nothing in her demeanor that suggested she was anything more than slightly curious as to how I knew, and it probably took her maybe three seconds to realize I’d spotted the script in her bag.
Now you guys can sit there in judgment twenty four hours later and endeavor to cast me in the worst possible light for what was, essentially, a harmless magic trick, painting tales of a terrified actress watching out her apartment for signs of her newfound stalker, but it’s more an exercise in bashing me than anything relating to reality.
PAD
You know, I’ve tried that before and every time I do I FAIL MISERABLY. I guess I just need to study people more or something.
In writing, it doesn’t matter as long as the fiction is more interesting than the truth.
To paraphrase an old joke, if PAD told you guys about the time he walked on water some of you would start harping on the fact that he can’t swim.
Yeah…
First Up… It’s the Bonfire of the Vanities. From Goats. Running Items Adult Content… Okay, not really adult, per se, but good heavens! Those are… are… Okay, let’s be honest, there’s probably quite a bit of scaffolding holding them up,…
Guys, I was perfectly pleasant about it, there was nothing threatening in my demeanor, she dressed in a way and carries a clear bag that practically screams “I’m an actress” to the world, there was nothing in her demeanor that suggested she was anything more than slightly curious as to how I knew, and it probably took her maybe three seconds to realize I’d spotted the script in her bag.
Now you guys can sit there in judgment twenty four hours later and endeavor to cast me in the worst possible light for what was, essentially, a harmless magic trick, painting tales of a terrified actress watching out her apartment for signs of her newfound stalker, but it’s more an exercise in bashing me than anything relating to reality.
So did you enjoy your little glimpse at the world of the black male stereotype, PAD?
It doesn’t take much does it? I’ve been walking across a parking lot headed for the Wal-Mart store only to have a sweet little (white) grandmotherly type, who I probably wouldn’t even have noticed if she hadn’t moved, make a sudden movement to reach out and lock her car door as I passed by.
It’s not like I was wearing thug clothes or hip hop gear, or even an orange jump suit. In fact I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and hat that both had the name of my work place embazoned across the front.
On the other hand, I’ve had girls (white. For some reason, I’ve never had a black girl ask me to escort her to her car) ask for an escort and specifically ask for me.
And I don’t have to do a magic trick to get that type of reaction.
Bill,
I agree. Some of these guys will find anything to bìŧçh about. I thought the story was cool. Even funny.
LIGHTEN UP PEOPLE!!
“So did you enjoy your little glimpse at the world of the black male stereotype, PAD?
It doesn’t take much does it?”
No, it really doesn’t. For instance, what I didn’t mention was that, when I was crossing the street to get to the subway station, apparently I wasn’t moving fast enough for one stopped driver. Even though the light hadn’t changed and I still had the green, a driver rolled down his window and shouted, “Move your fat white f–king ášš, you fat white f–k.” Black fellow, head shaved, snarl of hatred on his face.
Fortunately, being an arch liberal, I could only blame myself for being part of a white society that would push an African American toward such rage, feel sympathy for his pain, not to mention berate myself for being overweight.
Would that I were an arch conservative, so I simply could have pulled out my Second Amendment guaranteed Smith and Wesson and fired off a few rounds to expess my displeasure.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some anti-semitic hate mail to delete.
(Above incident actually happened, by the way.)
PAD
eClark,
The “black man’s world” analogy was really low.
As for the rest who are bashing PAD over this, please get a grip. So the actress was surprised.
So what! We spend so much time as friggin’ people these days acting like robots. People of all colors and all political stripes are afraid to open their mouths for fear of “offending” someone.
Now, PAD tries to share a personal anecdote and what he feels is a useful writing tool. Guess what? It IS useful. I have engaged in many interesting conversations with people, from art galleries to SEPTA buses, by guessing a bit about people just from their conversations, music they were listening to, clothes they were wearing, etc.
And believe it or not, virtually every person who I have done this to was PLEASANTLY surprised.
We need more surprise and laughter in our lives, people.
Yet PAD shares this personal experience and you (electronically) beat him up about it.
After his last two posts, he’s quite possibly sorry he even decided to share this experience with us.
And I don’t blame him at all in this particular instance if he does feel that way.
Again, way to go, trolls/killjoys.
Whoever thinks there’s anything wrong or creepy with what PAD did is obviously not a real New Yorker. People have said all kinds of things to me on the train and either I’ve chatted with them nicely or I’ve sort of frowned and given them monosyllabic answers, which made them back off. Nobody ever freaked me out.
*
A guy told me that before he met me he thought I was a writer — and he was correct. Though I can’t imagine what about me screams “writer.”
“It doesn’t take much does it? I’ve been walking across a parking lot headed for the Wal-Mart store only to have a sweet little (white) grandmotherly type, who I probably wouldn’t even have noticed if she hadn’t moved, make a sudden movement to reach out and lock her car door as I passed by.”
Did it not cross your mind that she did it because you were a male stranger?
“Then she’d have to be five kinds of stupid considering I was already on the train when she got on, and didn’t get off the train when she got off.”
If she thought you knew her, she’d think you know where she live or places she hangs around at. So she could think that you may find her again later. She doesn’t know you’re a witty writer, for her you’re a creepy fat middle aged man with a beard.
“Now you guys can sit there in judgment twenty four hours later and endeavor to cast me in the worst possible light for what was, essentially, a harmless magic trick, painting tales of a terrified actress watching out her apartment for signs of her newfound stalker, but it’s more an exercise in bashing me than anything relating to reality.”
So anytime someone criticizes you it’s because they want to stick it to you? OK. I forgot you’re perfect.