Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
On Dec. 10, taking the F train to Manhattan, something rather odd happened. I sat on one of the light-blue benches, still warm from its previous occupier, squished with every other New Yorker on the train.
Looking around as I normally do, trying to find a place to set my eyes where I'm not starring at someone's stomach, crotch or, even worse, straight into their eyes, I found myself looking at one lady who appeared to be rather crabby. She had this mean, “Don't even look at me the wrong way or I'll slap you,†kind of look on her face.
I would say she was about 24, give or take a few years, but she definitely didn't look as if she wanted to be stared at, so I quickly loo ked away, praying she didn't notice.
After about five minutes, two men walked in, maybe in their 20s, and they didn't even wait for the doors to close before they screamed, “Free chocolate! Free chocolate, only $2!†Immediately I looked at Crabby Lady because I knew that she was just waiting to blow up on someone, and to my surprise she cracked a smile and signaled one of the men to come over to her.
They did, and I overheard her say, “Listen, I really hate chocolate.†The man wore a stunned face that read “Then why did you call me over here?â€
However, she continued: “But I'm going to give you $10, enough for five chocolate bars, and when you get off this train or if you see someone on this train and they look like they could really use a chocolate bar, you give it to them. Promise?â€
Sure enough, the man said, “I promise,†and made his way to the next car. It's weird, isn't it?
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