JAMES BROWN

Rush hour at the 34th Street station. The A-train is taking forever to come. There’s some yelling coming down from the far end of the platform and it’s moving closer.

“James Brown…YEAH!!!”

Closer.

“James Brown…YEAH!!!”

Closer.

“James Brown…YEAH!!!”

It’s some drunk (possibly insane) black guy and he’s simply stopping periodically along the platform repeating this mantra without variation.

He makes it to the end of the platform, and as always it’s a pleasure to see how people to react to outbursts. It’s the second I’ve witnessed today, the first some irate old man berating a station manager over double use for a subway pass. Him and his wife were trying to get in on a single metro card. Even an idiot knows this isn’t possible and he’s making some ridiculous argument that he does it all the time.

“What are you… retarded?” He yells at the agent.

His wife is already through the gate, imploring him not to act like an animal while the agent calmly tells him that he needs to pay two bucks like everyone else. After more berating he capitulates, and the station manager--the epitome of professionalism--in the safety of her bulletproof cage, calmly wishes him a good day. A coronary is narrowly averted.

Now at 34th Street the A-train has come, and since it’s rush hour the cars are packed tighter than a colon after a prime rib dinner.

I squeeze in near the door and James Brown Man is still going strong as we pull out. A baby in a stroller is at my feet and the mother is threatening people with retaliation if anything anyone is holding happens to dangle in the face of her kid. My backpack, which I’m holding down by my legs, gets too close and I’m reprimanded.

More people get in. Some guy in the car is selling bootlegs of movies still in theaters and Oscar-nominated films.

“These are DVD quality, downloaded from the source. These aren’t shot in a theatre, so shaky camera bad focus. The quality is excellent. Only five bucks.”

He goes on to say he’s on the train seven days a week, in case anyone changes their mind.

I wish he were closer; I’d get Rocky Balboa.

A woman next to me is chewing gum and I see it fall out of her mouth and onto the baby, which is now next to her feet. She’s laughing to herself but doesn’t know I’m watching her.

She tries to keep composure. She heard the warning. She’s playing with fire. She gets off at the next stop.