subways: the new gathering place

a swattie walked right into the E today. i watched him from my seat as he took hold of the metal bar directly in my sightline and defiantly refused to recognize me. only a stalker could have been so persistent: he was a swattie! i totally knew him! not his NAME or anything, but that rumpled hair, that sun-deprived skin, those glasses only a geek could love.

i determined he was following me.

a seat opened up; he didn't take it. nor did he so much as glance my way. well, two can play at this game (i thought to myself). also, i thought, i've run into enough goddamn swatties in this city. how many times do i have to marvel at finding some slight acquaintance with whom i share an alma mater in the same car at the same time as i am, or on the same east village corner walking towards the city's best pastries? how many awkward "hey, i kinda know you; what are you up to?" conversations do i have to hold with people i probably didn't know, when it counted, for a reason? new conclusion!: don't succumb to the temptation of greeting familiar faces with "aren't you a swattie?"

happy with my new conclusion, when he followed me off into the west 4th street station, and down to the b,d/f,v transfer platform, i didn't panic and i didn't give in. the only problem is he subsequently disappeared and i still, dammit, don't know who he was.