Crossing Delancey (A NYC Short Story)

I had just missed the train and was waiting on the bench at the end of the platform when a ragged looking crazy man starts pacing around in front of me. He says to himself: …and when I don’t take my medication, I get a little crazy, but I don’t like to take it because it makes me feel different…New Yorkers are all rude. In New Jersey they’ll say “Hi” back to you and ask how you are doing. New Yorkers are all rude or scared.

Crazy man sits a seat down from me. I am a typical computer tech: glasses, chunky, and neat. I am looking straight at the tracks, ignoring him.

Crazy man: This city’s full of queers and niggers and geeks, yeah geeks. 

He looks at me and says: They’re all rude or scared. Scared that you’ll beat them. Beat on them. You know what I mean?

I don’t answer and am looking away from him.

Crazy man: See! See! Rude…scared.

He opens a NY Post.

Crazy man: Look at all these murders. All these people dying. Ever think they deserved to die, though?

I get up and walk all the way to the other end of the platform. The F train comes and I get on and sit down. I hear a voice next to me: Ever get the feeling you’re being followed?

–Delancey Street station

Overheard by: Matt