THE BIG LADY

Caught the subway downtown at the 190th St. entrance. It’s the huge tunnel blasted out of solid rock east of Bennett Ave. It’s like a cave, cool and damp. No posters here, just scrapped off remnants with mold growing on them. On the ride down a group of black kids is being as annoying as humanly possible. One of them, the ringleader, is jumping around from seat to seat, hanging on the overhead handrails, generally being loud and obnoxious. I break out the iPod and read the NYT article on New York State’s town and village courts. A great article. Couple stops into the ride this immense black woman—at least 300lbs and eating one of those tiny 99¢ bags of Cheetos—gets on and sits right next to the kids. They shut up doublequick, like the Lord has come, and she gives them the hairy eyeball and they’re fearful of those big arms: arms of flab and weight that could hurt and cause pain. Arms of Cheeto. No more fun, no more hanging from overhead handrails, no more foolish behaviour, because black women are not afraid to whip the crap out of other people’s black kids who give them lip, shit or anything else. Not like white people who put up with everything and try to hide, and avoid, or read the paper and listen to someone playing the Oud on their iPod—like myself.

When their stop comes the ringleader asks her what time it is and she says:

“You want to know what time it is? Like you don’t know what time it is? Like you don’t know where you should be going now?”

And the boys look sad and grumble off because the Arms have spoken.

After they leave she puts on her headphones and listens to Jesus music and sings along about the Lord so we all can rejoice.

• • •

Later as I’m running in Central Park , I see Cesar Milan, that “Dog Whisperer” guy making a video with a film crew.