The train gets more and more interesting every time I take it.
I’m on my way home nice and cozy sprawled in a seat, when an elderly, blind Black man gets on at 42nd Street.
I immediately get up to let him sit down, but just as I do, the train jerks making me fall right into him. “I’m so sorry,” I say, “I wanted to help you, and now you’re helping me.”
He had grabbed my arm as I came crashing down.
“Would you like to sit?”
“I’m okay, don’t need to” he said, flashing a mouthful of pearly white teeth.
Turns out we were in for a magic show, and did he have everyone’s attention. He pulls a hankie out of mid air, turns a belt into a cane and yanks 6 feet of multicolored fabric out of the sleeve of his worn out, black tuxedo jacket.
If he pulls a rabbit out of his hat, that’s it, I’m his manager.
He doesn’t, but it’s mighty impressive just the same, especially when he passes his silver bucket and the whole car, except for me, fills it with dollars and cents.
Now at my stop, sorry to have no cash I whisper to him, “You don’t take Visa, do ya?”
“No, but I’m workin on it.”