Aliens and Rats and Girls

I have heard a lot of different speeches from various panhandlers, musicians, and other displaced, subway-riding bums, but what I heard yesterday as my friend Mike and I made our way to Union Square was the most bizarre yet. No one really talks on the subway, so whenever one begins a tirade asking for handouts, it's not hard to hear exactly what he, or she is saying. This particular gentleman began as most do, yelling some crazy jargon about God, the government, and the Apocalypse. I had my back toward his end of the train, and having heard similar things before, did not turn around. However, this man carried things a bit further, shouting that "he was an alien!" and that he brought a message from his home planet. He then proceeded to pull out a saxophone, and make a fast-paced series of squeaks and blips, what he called the "language of his planet." There was also a brief, yet terribly painful interlude of the Twilight Zone and Outer Limits theme songs.Thinking that this was a performance worthy of payment, he then made a plea to his fellow "travelers" that he needed earthly currency in order to return home safely. There was also some quip about taking Bush and Cheney with him when he left. A nice gesture, but it was still not winsome enough to overcome the annoyance of the pervious five minutes. As he left though the door near me, I saw that he was wearing antenna made out of wire. Yeah.

Later that evening, as Mike and I were enjoying some organic chocolate chip banana bread from the Union Square Green Market, a rat crawled right under our feet, as if neither one of us were sitting there. I said, rather nonchalantly, "Um, Mike, there's a rat under your foot," something I though I'd never say. But, in New York, one never knows. Eating organic banana bread in Union Square Park, after dark is not the best idea, that is if unless one wants to see the local "wildlife."

In other subway news, the ride home brought with it a very cinematic moment.
The scene: a crowded subway car.
A beautiful girl was stares pensively into empty space. Our eyes met briefly. We smile, if only slightly. I pretend not to steal glances out of the corner of my eye. The train arrives at my stop. It is hers too. She gets out first. I watch as she is swallowed by the undulating masses in the Times Square station.
If this were really a movie, we would randomly meet while browsing through books at the library, where we both make small talk about out mutual love for the short stories of Kleist- either that, or at a dog park.