Only in New York...I hope.

So I was heading home last night after seeing a show and grabbing some food with friends, and the subway car that I got on had a homeless guy stretched out and sleeping on the bench. The first thing I do when I notice I am on a car like this is take a small sniff. I have endured more than my share of subway rides with homeless people who smell like poop, or worse....death. I once stayed on a subway car all the way into the city with a man who smelled dead because it was rush hour and I needed to sit down and eat my breakfast on the way to a job I would be standing all day for. Yes, I even ate an egg sandwich whilst smelling death. I don't recommend it, but not just for the fact that it is gross, mainly because I smelled that smelly homeless dead guy all day long. There are still days when I think I can smell him near me. Anyway, I noticed upon sniffing that there was no discernible scent, so I decided to stay. I noticed some crumbs lying on the floor next to his cart. I felt bad for the man, knowing this may have been his only meal that day and it looked like a tiny bag of chips. I wondered if he would be interested in finishing the half of chicken quesadilla I was carrying home. It wouldn't be the first time I had offered someone my leftovers, and generally they have been well-received, but sometimes it can be offensive. I thought about how I wish I could leave him a $50 bill to wake up to instead of a quesadilla. My thoughts drifted to this man and his plight for a few stops until I noticed that he had his hand down his pants. Up to that point, the angle I was sitting at saved me from that discovery. Certainly he isn't doing anything in there....maybe his hand was just...cold? It wasn't long before I noticed that his hand was moving, and there was no denying what it was doing in there. Well fuck that! That foul man is NOT getting my chicken quesadilla! Ah....NYC. Good times. Well...shortly before my stop, I noticed his motions getting more...purposeful when....I heard the sound of water...falling. Still laying across the subway car seat, he had pulled out his penis and proceeded to unload his bladder. From where I was seated, his cart blocked full exposure, but the arch of urine from his crotch and splashing onto the floor was clear. It was then that those at the other end of the car....down-stream of this man's relief show...noticed what was happening. Some were amused, some were appauled. I found myself more amused than anything. I have to say that, while NYC is a much cleaner/safer city than years ago, nothing like this really surprises me exactly. It was a first for me though. I never saw a man whip it out and piss on the subway while laying down, but I did see a man take a dump on the sidewalk in broad sunny daylight near Madison Square Garden though. It was a hot summer day and there were people everywhere. The man made no attempt to conceal his actions, and I saw his bare ass gleaning in the sunlight and the poop coming out of it. But the best part of it all was that he was reading what looked like a paperback romance novel at the time.

More Midget Michael Jackson Man!!!!

If you don't know who the Midget Michael Jackson Man is, please check out an earlier post in this blog about him. He is a man of the dwarf persuasion who dances to Michael Jackson hits in the subways of NYC.

I caught the lil' guy warming up his legs this morning...a little hopscotch action, sort of..in one place...very briskly...boy those tiny limbs move fast! A good midget subway performer knows to stretch well before a long day of moonwalking less his puny ligaments tear where they meet his teensy hip sockets.

Once again, while the man does a mean tiny crotch grab, I still marvel more at this early Saturday morning ritual I am sometimes lucky enough to catch.

Midget Michael Jackson Man...

You know that midget Michael Jackson impersonator in the subways in NYC? Well I witnessed him stretching his tiny limbs this morning. I watched him whip those wee little arms around and back and forth like a small sparrow fallen out of the nest, desperately continuing to try to fly though his feet remain firmly on the ground. He was facing the dark smelly corner of the subway tunnel, warming up his mini ligaments and tendons for a Saturday of girations to "Billie Jean" as people stop to gawk. Is it sad that I found this early morning warmup preparation ritual far more entertaining? I will never get that video clip out of my mind.