At 1:30 a.m.

I was the only white guy to step on a downtown bound 6 train on 125th Street. A fat black girl got on the train asking loudly if it was going to Bronx so I shook my head while the guy next to me said yes. What?? He then stepped out of the train and I thought he was lying for whatever reason because, well, I was not on a fukkin Bronx train that’s why. I looked at this big latino guy sitting opposite to me who gave me the white-boy-dunno-where-he-goin’ -look. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.

So I looked at the next stop led screen which said 88th Street. But there’s no station at 88th that I remember. Well, maybe it’s a stop for night time only. You know sometimes the screen says “At late night line x stops at station y and not z.” But even if it was a night stop, it’ll be upper east side and there lives only rich white people on upper east side and i was the only one on the train who can call himself caucasian. In the end it’s late Monday night so maybe they’re all home asleep. Plus they never use the subway anyway so there’s no chance I’m on no Bronx train. Liars.

A woman next to me was listening to marching music at maximum volume while simultaneously banging her head to the wall at the tempo of the music. There happened to be a small pole in front of the led screen so I moved a little and took another glance: the first number wasn’t an eight but instead, a three. There also was a number one in front of the three and eight.. 138th? Well, white boy, I’m sorry but that’s Bronx.

So, it was almost two in the late night and I was on my way to Bronx, alone, with my camera. My heart rate just might have jumped up a little, just the same way as when I first got out of the train at 116th at East Harlem.

The 138th st station was the poorest sight I’ve seen in all America and I was so concentrated on how the hell to get back south that I forgot to take a picture of it. This other white guy came running to me asking why the hell he is in Bronx, so we went and asked the most non-murderer looking black guy how to get back south and soon we got on an express train. The other white guy frustrated his ass off while whining to me about how and why the metro system sucks ass because he ended up there, so Ifelt like the tough mofo cos I was helppin dis cracker ass kid out and hell, i’m supposed to be the tourist!

On 125th we hopped on a new train that said it’s next stop was on 116th and the poor guy followed me. He asked me if it’s local or express and I, since I’m the train’s customer every day, knew it was local. So now that I’m proud of being a helpful man on the Bronx train I can tell you what other good things I did today: I helped another white guy who dropped his cell phone, the Batman by giving him a quarter to spread his wings for a photo, and some midnight drummer guy on Times Square by giving his all my coins. I also spent 80 buxx on a pair of black Adidas shoes but I don’t know if it’s a or a yet.

AND by the way, at about midnight I was talking to some black guy who looked like Michael from Lost. He asked me if Finland was one of dem cold countries. “You skiing and shit, right? Like isn’t dis warm weather for you huh??” I looked at the some led screen north of Times Square showing the temperature being 23 C / 74 F.