The PATH train from NY to Jersey rocks. As the leads singer in the band Interpol disparagingly said in the last edition of New York Magazine, it's amateur hours for drunks on Friday nights. Well my friends, where there's smoke there's fire, and where there's drunk people there's entertainment.
My job, of course, is to play the role of the interested observer. So while traveling home the other day, I noticed these two strangers sitting next to each other, I know they're strangers because they got on at different stops when all of a sudden, unbeknownst to our white friend, the Indian guy suddenly put his hand behind him.
It's almost like they were sharing an intimate moment on the train...except for the fact that there were several dozen onlookers and that only the Indian guy really wanted to have this moment....and that the white guy had no clue what was going on behind him.
People often say to me "hey Shakes, you're a handsome guy, why do you live in Jersey?" Believe you me, I understand where they're coming from. But it's these random desi spottings that keep me here.
For anyone who has ever been to India, one of the funnier things to observe is how carefree guys are to hold one anther's hands...and when I say this I don't mean guys in a relationship, I mean straight guys. I mean technically speaking I don't know if they're straight since I don't really stop and ask them, but for a land of a billion people I'm pretty sure that there are more than a few of them who are straight in order to make all these babies. It seems as though our Indian friend on the train is trying to bring this time-honored tradition of male camaraderie to the states.
We applaud your efforts oh strange one.
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