Stand Clear

I get on the train to go home at the same place everyday, a place I have chosen after some thought because it is far enough down the platform that the "What time is it? Showtime!" kids who usually start at the back of the train won't reach my car before I get to my stop in Brooklyn.

I didn't use to mind these kids, with their mediocre acrobatics and shitty music, until I realized that, trains being what they were, there was no way for someone to avoid their antics once the train was in motion. They essentially had a captive audience whom they forced to listen to shitty music and watch mediocre acrobatics, after which came the inevitable shakedown for the privilege of having one's sensibilities insulted.

Today, however, they piled onto my car, waiting until the doors were already closed to begin their spiel ("What time is it? Showtime? In full effect! Live and direct!") whereupon I looked up from my book, muttered, "Ah hell no," and walked between the cars while the train was in motion, law be damned.