"Want some ham?"

This past Saturday morning started like any other Saturday morning: I woke up early, went into lab to check if any of my mice got pregnant, then took the A train down to Claude's for croissants. Afterward I went to take the 1 train back up town so I could stop at Barnes & Noble. (That in itself is the subject of another post, which I will make later this week.)

When I went into the 1 train station I saw a sign saying that there was no weekend 1 train uptown service; instead I would have to take the 2/3 (that's "2 or 3", not two-thirds) train(s) up to 14th Street and transfer to the 1. No big deal. I hop on a 2 train, travel one stop, get off and walk towards the 1 train.

There was an announcement over the subway station intercom saying that the uptown 1 train is running on the downtown 2/3 track. Ohhh-kaaay... So I get onto the train that is waiting right there, ready to leave, and this young guy (early 20's) runs into the same car as me and says, "I don't care which direction this train is going, as long as it's going uptown." He is obviously chemically impaired.

He plops down on the bench seating a few feet to my left, turns toward me, holds out a fist-sized fleshy-pink lump of... something, and says, "Want some ham?" Indeed, a strong odor confirmed the mysterious lump's identity as that of ham. Imagine, if you will, somebody who was out all night drinking/drugging/whatever, then took an apple and gnawed off all of the skin, held it in their dirty hand, and offered you a bite. Now imagine that the apple was really a piece of ham. What would you do? I thought so.

So I said, "No thanks," and turned my attention to an advertisement on the wall. However, this young guy wasn't done trying to be my friend. As the train started pulling out of the station he turned toward me and asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

I said, "It's about 8:40" and quickly added "AM", not sure he knew that there was in fact sunlight outside. He gave me the most incredulous stare and said nothing. It was as if he had just witnessed Christ walk out of the cave, alive again. (I know it was only Saturday, and not yet Easter Sunday, but that's all I could think when I saw his face.) He continued to stare for a few seconds and then we pulled into a station where a lot of young people got on the train. Thankfully a few sat between me and the crazy guy.

A large group of the young people were speaking in German, so the crazy guy asked them where they were from. "Germany" one kid says. The crazy guy asks him, "Why are you here?" and the kid replies, "We're on a school trip."

Crazy Guy: "What kind of school?"
German Kid: "High school?"
Crazy Guy (laughing): "Oh, I'm done with that. No more school for me!"
German Kid: "What do you do now?"
Crazy Guy: "I play the guitar on the subway."
German Kid: "..."
(Note that Crazy Guy doesn't have a guitar.)
Crazy Guy: "Do you want some ham?"

Time elapses.

Crazy Guy: "Where in Germany are you from?"
German Kid: "Stuttgart."
Crazy Guy (making a shape with his hands that looks nothing like Germany): "If this is Germany, where is Stuttgart?"
German Kid (confused by a 'country' that doesn't look like Germany): "It's in the south."

(Some small talk, including the information that Crazy Guy lives at 168th Street just like me, and the large group of German kids leave.)

Crazy Guy (to me): "Do you have a cigarette? I really need a cigarette."
Me: "Sorry, I don't smoke."
(This invokes another incredulous stare; apparently I look like a smoker.)

Crazy Guy (standing up and speaking loudly to the entire train): "Does anyone here have a cigarette? Anyone, please? I have cigarettes at home, but I won't be home for twenty minutes and I really need a cigarette."
Everyone: "..."
Crazy Guy: "I promise I will smoke between the subway cars. ... Does anyone have a cigarette?"
Crazy Guy (to me): "Can you ask them for a cigarette? I think they'll give one to you."
Me: "I don't think they'll give me one. Sorry, but you'll have to try again."
(We pull into another station and more people get on.)
Crazy Guy (to everyone): "Does anyone have a cigarette? Look."
(Crazy Guy then starts hanging off of the bars and doing slow, awkward flips.)
Crazy Guy: "I can do anything. I'll do anything for a cigarette, watch."
(Crazy Guy does one pullup.)
Everyone: "..."
Crazy Guy: "Fine, I don't need your cigarettes. I'll get my own."

At this point we pull into 72nd Street. I had planned on going to 79th Street, but I had been trying so hard to suppress my laughter that I had to bite my lips. Several times. So I get off the train at 72nd Street. As I am standing up, an Indian guy sitting opposite me and Crazy Guy reaches over and hands him a cigarette. Crazy Guy gives his incredulous stare to the Indian guy and says, "Thank you so much!" Crazy guy raises his fists in triumph.

I guess there's no place like New York City.