Chainsaws and Tats

A loitering man, armed with chainsaw, provides under normal circumstances a reasonable cause for concern. But in lobby of a Bennett avenue building I can safely say good morning as the man holds the door open for me.

Ilanit H. is sitting outside playing with her baby and talking to some local women. I walk to the station and on to the platform, where I see Aviva W. and Josh C. sitting on a bench near the stairs. We wave.

On the train, a 30-something man is sitting next to me, reading "Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World." He is wearing checkered jeans and black felt shoes. His dark muscle shirt has a "worn out" look and has been meticulously stained with blobs of white paint. His skin is tan, and on his right arm, there's a tattoo of... He catches me eyeing his tattoo and fires a glare towards me.

On my other side is a women in flat shoes, black denim pants, and a beige, almost skin-toned sweater. She has fallen asleep with her head resting on a silver mug that is poking out of her large blue hand bag. One of her hoop earrings keeps clanging against the mug as the train rocks her head back and forth. We get to 125th street and the train screeches to a halt. The woman wakes up from the noise and then drapes over her head what are the largest headphones I've ever seen. They are painted with colorful designs (the cord attached to her iPod is yellow) and are branded “Skull Candy.”

The man's tattoo appears to be the cartoon of a penis.