magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Chris was playing drums with Inoculist at Boogaloo again tonight. Like last time, I got dinner at Pukk, then walked across the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn. Like last time, someone had a fresh, one day old tattoo, although it was a different someone. Like last time I had a few whiskey and ginger ales, plus a beer with dinner, enough for the slightest bit of a buzz, but not enough to get me drunk.

Unlike last time, when I left the J had already gone to its late night schedule, running in two sections, and not going all the way to meet up with the A. So the J to the 4, and the 4 to the A.

On the 4 platform there were three drunk, heavily tattooed guys who were harassing, mostly verbally, anyone who seemed like a target. And I guess my pink camo shoes made me seem like a target. As if the fact that I like pink, already something of a logical leap, made simply because I'm wearing it (although it happens to be true), somehow sums up the whole of my social personality and sexuality. And while I usually just do my best to tune that sort of things out, I was a little bit worried that one of these guys could, even on a crowded subway platform, cross the line between verbal harassment and physical violence. It's one of very few times in my life that I've really felt threatened, although, and it may have been the effect of having had a few drinks, not scared.

They got on a different car of the 4 than I did, and a stop later I got off to transfer to the A.