For me, it was a Tuesday.

I step onto the train and surprisingly enough, there's barely anyone in the car. Surprised at the unlikely chance that I won't be fighting for elbow room the entire commute, I swiftly head to an open seat.

Then something happens, something awesome, something perfect. Something awesomely perfect.

A woman steps into the train. I spotted her from the other side of the car. She literally froze me in my tracks (Yes, literally, I definitely felt goosebumps.) A sun-kissed temptress with whose presence I simply couldn't deny myself. There was something about her that I wanted to know. Something about her I needed to know, and I needed to know it... now.

I noticed she was reading a book about the life and times of Nat Turner. How amazing is that? I just so happened to read the same book a couple years ago. Maybe we could talk about it together. I was overcome with curiosity. Like, how did she find out about the book? Where did she pick it up at? Does she read anything else from Kyle Baker? Hmm, maybe not that last one...

I know it's a stock photo, but she was too fine to pass up.

As she gracefully flipped pages, I couldn't help but notice her hair. A beautiful shade of the darkest brown, it was pulled back into an impressive puff with curls that spiraled out to the sun, shining out onto the rest of us like some kind of beautiful afrocentric corona.

I moved closer. She licks her lips, a pouty perfected blend of soft and supple, right before she turns each page. "What a neat little tick", I thought to myself. I wonder, does she read often, does she only do it on the train? She looks like she's smart, but then maybe that's just because she's holding a book right now. Well... probably.

Then suddenly, something else happens. The bell rings, the train door opens and she begins to look around. I feel her watchful gaze creeping slowly around the car. I look up and our eyes meet, and the connection is felt instantaneously.

She doesn't turn away. So, I close the gap. 


I conjure up the smoothest, coolest Et Cetera I've ever been able to manifest in my life, and break the silence. 


"Hi, I noticed your book. How long have you had it?"

She turns around flashing those beautiful pearly whites at me and unrepentently plunges a knife deep into my heart, deftly twisting it, and ripping it from my chest. She then proceeds to do some kind of river/Lion King-musical dance all over it in front of everyone on the train.  And, as the life slowly bleeds away from me onto the sticky subway floor, I somehow manage to sputter out, "Well... a-a-at least... it was a quick death." 


And then I died.

*sigh*

Only I didn't. I only wished I did. You see, I may have embellished a little on that last part of the story. But seriously, only a little. What actually happened mostly involved her looking at me and giving THEE most uninspired exhale I've ever heard in the history of my life, and exclaiming to the unlistening air around her, "I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIIIIIIT!!!" She then put on her headphones and promptly pivoted a complete 180 degrees away from me.

See? 


If you ask me, that's basically the same story.

Oh To Be Young And In Like

So, I was on my way to work today and instead of doing what i usually do (trying to guess which person on the train may be a sociopathic murderer), I instead found myself a captive audience to a sickening display of young "love".

Anyway, as I sat there trying to not watch the Wendy's girl paw all over Patty Mayonnaise's (definitely EX after she reads this) boyfriend, my mind drifted back to a purer time. The days when I was a young boy/man, fueled by hormones, sugary drinks, and unsurmountable horniness. Actually, now that I think about it, those times weren't really purer at all.

So as I stood there trying to look around the two 9th graders fucking each other with their clothes on, I feel a look of utter disgust beginning to wash over me. I thought to myself, "Surely there's no way I was this horny back then." But then, the more I thought of it, the more I realized how much that was pure bullshit. As I stood there flashing back to EPICLY getting to 3rd base on the morning school bus commute, I remembered that I was exactly that horny back then. 


In fact, there was even a specific code I abided by back then to "almost" safely navigate said horniness. The basic rules of engagement pretty much amounted to performing two simple actions:

1. Avoid doing anything around parents.

2. Avoid cock-blocking adults.

3. Do whatever you can get away with while staying aware of rules 2 and 3.


(Ok, I know that was three, but it just sounded so much easier if I said that there were only two things that you needed to do. Oh well, on with the show.)
Anyway, those were some crazy days. I mean, that shit was like the wild west of dick grinding, absolutely out of control. Which reminds of a story.

You see, once upon a time, a younger far less experienced me had THEE biggest crush on a girl named Tameka Mack. I mean this girl was a COLD TONI. And,  maybe she liked me back, I don't know. But what I do know is that I used to suck on her massive titty-balls just about every day behind the bleachers in 10th grade weight training. Every now and then it would go a little further and there would be some intense dick/pussy rubbing and maybe a little kissing. I say maybe because Tameka used to really be on some "Are you gonna suck'em or not?" type action in those days and as soon as we got in the back she was smothering me with areolas and grinding against my left thigh. Which, of course, I was completely ok with. Matter of fact, I was practically overjoyed with it. 


Isn't that crazy? I mean if a lady did something like that to me in the now-time, I. Would. Be. PISSED. Absolutely, FURIOUS. But back then... Hey, anything was plenty man, and was better than nan or nothing at all. (Book of Devin: Chapter 3 verse 7)

Well, weight training came and went. And me and Tameka soon found ourselves in other romantic situations around our sprawling high school campus. 


*sigh* 


She was a great girl.


And just like that I was no longer in a flashback scene. I was back on the train surrounded by jerks and people who look like jerks. I then paused to look down at these two young souls boldly embarking onto their journey of sexual discoveries and social embarrassment (in front of more than 150 people engaged in NYC public transportation), smiled to myself and thought, "enjoy it while it lasts you crazy kids..."

Then I looked down again and they were still going at it. My look of disgust and judgement immediately returned as I was like, "Really yall? Do I have to really to listen to yall swap spit and smeared lip gloss RIGHT next to me and my laptop case?" That's when I shiveringly remembered those (apparently still) long honored rules of engagement I told you guys about earlier, hurriedly grabbed my stuff and found my way to the opposite side of train.

SmH

Fucking teenagers.

MAGIC

So, I’m sitting on the train over the weekend minding my own Regular business when who should wheel their squeaky-ass shopping cart onto the A-Train with me and 40 other people? Why, none other than the (not so) world famous weird-long-haired-does-magic-on-the-train-no-matter-if-you-want-to-see-it-or-not-guy!

“HOORAY,” we (never) shouted!

“HOORAY for the (uncomfortable) magic show we are about to witness!” we (opposite of) exclaimed.

And then, on with the show. And quite a show it was, actually. He pulled some girls panties out of the bottom of her jeans (they were pink, just in case you really wanted to know), turned someone’s empty water bottle into like a hundred pennies, and then there was the finale...

He reached into a hat.

And out of the hat, he pulls out a beautiful handful of air followed by a mass of confused facial expressions. Needless to say, we were quite unimpressed. Out of nowhere, mister magician then gets angry, like really angry, (like get me outta this tight ass train angry) puts the hat back on top of the shopping cart and begins bashing the hell out of it. And he is literally now hulking out on this hat, crushing it over and over again with his closed fist. Until he stops.

He pauses to catch his breath, picks the hat back up, inspects the outside of it and, very smooth-like, reaches inside once more.

And the car goes silent...

He violently throws the hat down against the shopping cart, and to everybody’s surprise, there is now, all of sudden, a fluttering white (possibly pigeon or) dove in the air of our subway car. And the crowd goes wild... The show was simply, amazing.

At least, it should have been.

Unfortunately, I found myself totally oblivious to any type of amazement whatsoever. The entire time he was doing the trick, I was completely overcome by this one all-consuming thought, “did he really have that bird jammed up his jacket sleeve since he got on the train?” What?

Yes, that was me. I was the one standing there, after it was all over, wondering just exactly how many birds this guy smothered putting his show together. I mean come on right? He definitely had to have practiced on a few pigeons before he brought the doves out. We all know, those things don't come cheap (I didn't fact check that, but I'm pretty sure they're not the poor man's bird of choice). Now, don’t get me wrong, Mr. Et Cetera is not the all-cynical-all-the-time guy by any stretch of the term, but he certainly looked that way 14 minutes into his half-hour ride back home at the end of what was actually a decent show. And he didn’t feel any type of way about it either. I mean, if the man had a “eff Magic” t-shirt on, he couldn’t have been more transparent about the way he felt (that's it for the 3rd person narrative interlude, trust me, it hurts me more than it hurts you).

But then, the magician began shuffling around our crowded little rolling coke can of a subway car with his money pail out. And, as I tried (avoiding eye contact with the magician by) looking at some stupid ad on the other side of the train, I saw this little girl acting like she just had just seen a man walk on water. She was practically having a meltdown over there, going on and on about all the “cool stuff that guy just did!!!” She would not shut up. And, after begging her mother for what seemed like years, she got a dollar, walked over to the magician, dropped the bill inside and said, “that was amazing!” (Which basically smacked that snarky look di-rectly off of my face to a place I have yet to recover from). Then, the doors opened and we both watched him walk out of the train. And then he was gone.

So, as I stood there gripping that sticky new york city steel rail, I pensively rocked back and forth with my fellow public transpo patrons until I landed in BedStuy. And, I couldn’t help but wonder...

What the hell happened to magic?



I mean, I don’t know exactly when it happened for sure. But somewhere around puberty, after wrestling became fake, but a little ways before girls started going “all the way”, everything became a whole lot harder for me to enjoy without spoil, you know, because of that whole "thinking about all the dead birds in a jacket lining" thing.

What about you guys, when it comes to music, movies, magic, or whatever are you still excited by the “cool stuff” or are you steadily finding your self more and more these days thinking about all the dead birds?