civilization and its discontents: east side, west side, all around the town

Civilized behavior is getting harder to find on the streets of the city, but don’t give up hope yet (photo by twi-ny/ees)

Contrary to popular opinion, I do not have a death wish.

I did recently write about my newfound fear of death, but that’s not the same thing.

Nor am I some modern-day version of vigilante architect Paul Kersey, the fictional character played by Charles Bronson in Michael Winner’s 1974 Death Wish, patrolling the streets of New York City looking to right the wrongs he sees with a .32 Colt Police Positive double action revolver.

However, I do identify with one line in that movie: “If this person is listening to my voice, I urge him in the name of law and order to desist from this one-man crusade,” delivered by Police Commissioner Dryer (Stephen Elliott).

I am deeply put off by the lawlessness that has overtaken this city, but I’m not referring to violent crime, which is actually down from last year, even in the subways (although “nonconfrontational property thefts of opportunity” are up). I’m talking about common decency and the acknowledgment that we are all in this together.

Just as I can’t help myself from pointing out something interesting about a work of art in a museum to the person standing next to me, or giving my opinion when the couple sitting behind me at the theater are discussing what other shows are worth checking out, or helping out someone not sure how to get where they’re going, I have trouble not calling out insensitivity, selfishness, misunderstandings, or blatant lawbreaking when I encounter it.

Example #1
So I’m at the Thirty-Third St. downtown 6 station, heading toward the turnstiles. Approaching from the other stairway are three loud, drunk bros; I can see trouble a-brewin’. I swipe my MetroCard, but the trio has elected to jump the turnstiles. Two of the guys make it easily, but the third, and most sauced, embarrassingly gets tangled in the metal bars and takes a hard tumble to the cement.

“Would have been a lot easier to just pay the $2.75,” I mutter under by breath. His friends laugh as he awkwardly picks himself up and I relax on one of James Garvey’s “Lariat Seat Loops” attached to the green stanchions.

“What’d you say?” the tumbler counters, vaping.

“Don’t worry about it,” I answer, hoping that will be the end of it.

It’s not.

The guy then draws near me, puts his right hand in his pants pocket, and says, “I got something for you.” He slowly pulls his hand out of the pocket . . . and . . . gives me the middle finger. With his left hand, he takes a hit off his vape.

“Good one,” I say. “Now you’ve broken two laws.” The fines for fare evasion and vaping in the subway are $100 apiece.

“Have a great night,” I add as the bros pat one another on the back and wander down the platform.

James Garvey’s “Lariat Seat Loops” line the entry to the Thirty-Third St. 6 train (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Example #2
So I’m walking down Third Ave., coming home from the theater, when I come to one of my favorite local restaurants. Standing outside is a group of five or six twentysomethings who are chatting amongst themselves and on their phones. They are taking up most of the sidewalk, even though there’s plenty of room for them, and there’s only a narrow space for me to go through. Although I make eye contact, none of them moves an inch. Just as I reach them, another of their friends shows up out of nowhere from the right and stops directly in front of me. Now, the only way for me to get past them is to push myself through, squeeze against one of those LinkNYC kiosks, or walk out into the busy street and bus lane.

I stop and say, “Excuse me.”

The dude barks, “Go around me, asshole.”

“Really?” I respond. “Is that an answer?”

When he sees I’m not going to go around him, he finally slides over closer to his friends. As I pass them, I hear one of the women say to him, “What’s wrong with that fucking guy?”

I shout back, over my shoulder, “You just ate at a great restaurant. I just saw a great play. It’s all good; have a great night.”

I continue on but then hear them mutter more curses at me, so I call out, “Or just go fuck yourselves. Is that better?”

For the annual Halloween party at my day job in children’s book publishing, I was asked to be a judge. I dressed the part. Yet, as one of my meditation teachers says, “Notice; don’t judge.”

I guess I can be a little too judgy when encountering people who think they don’t have to play by the rules like the rest of us. If you’re blocking the door on the subway so people can’t get on and off without a struggle while you’re comfortably texting away on your phone, well, I’m likely to say something. If you pretend you don’t see a pregnant or elderly woman or ailing person so you can keep your seat on public transportation, then yes, you’re going to hear from me. If you enter the bus via the back door and don’t pay your fare, you might get a talking-to. If you go through a red light on my corner, you better roll up your window if you don’t want to be the object of my wrath.

That said, I’m not a complete idiot. Although I don’t have a patented, perfect method, I don’t engage with people who look they might be dangerous and unpredictable.

After reading from the Bible, a man opens his new action figure on bus (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

On the bus the other day, an unkempt man seated across from me started reading loudly from a tattered Bible. I said nothing, avoiding eye contact as best as I could.

He then took out a box and opened it, pulling out a small Ghost Rider action figure, a hero you won’t find in the New or Old Testament. I wanted to congratulate him on his find but opted to remain silent.

Walking up the steps in the subway last week, I was to the far right, where you are supposed to be; New York City works best when everyone sticks to the right. An angry man was coming down, straight toward me, but because there were two women also coming down that side, I had nowhere to go. The man clearly was not going to get out of my way and started cursing at me in advance. I wiggled around him as he laced into me verbally. I let out a “Really?” but then hustled onto the platform, feeling shaky, believing that any further confrontation would not have gone well, as he was still cursing at me from afar.

Example #3
So I’m on the M34, going east from Penn Station. I’m sitting in the back middle seat.

Near the center articulated section, a grizzled man, apparently drunk and/or high, is singing — no, screeching unintelligibly — to whatever music is coming through his earbuds. He is having a grand old party by himself. He’s not touching or threatening anyone, just dancing in place, with a big smile on his face. Everyone around him looks dour and bored.

“Now, that guy is having a good time,” I say to no one in particular. The woman next to me nods in agreement.

When the man gets off the bus, he turns to us from outside and shows us a picture of someone on his phone, maybe a friend or relative; he seems even happier.

“Check that out,” I say.

“That’s the fucking problem with you liberals,” a fortysomething, well-dressed man sitting near me complains. “You think everything’s a joke and then you do nothing about the homeless, the mentally ill, the poor.”

“Excuse me?” I say in a calm voice.

“You heard me. Fucking worthless liberal.”

“First of all, you know nothing about me. And you know nothing about that man,” I counter. “How do you know he’s homeless or mentally ill? Maybe he’s just drunk and happy.”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever. Have a nice day,” I say. “Like our friend out there.”

Recently my wife and I were waiting for the M42 on Ninth Ave. after having seen a play. I was keeping my eye on the stop catty corner from ours, where the M34A starts its southeast run, another option to get us home. After the first M42 flew past us, filled to the gills, a drunk young man wearing a mask that did not cover his nose or the top half of his mouth started talking to me about energy, complimenting my aura. I looked to see if either bus was coming; nothing.

Yes, I have a tendency to attract people wearing tinfoil hats and declaring that the problem with the world is pasteurized milk. But it turns out that this was just a kind soul who wanted to engage in conversation about empathy and compassion with like-minded people. He was not asking for money or trying to sell a book or CD.

A second packed M42 drove past, not stopping, angering a bunch of my fellow waiters, but I didn’t care. The man started reciting his spoken-word poetry, which was uplifting and had some cool rhymes. I saw my treasured M34A stop across the street but decided to keep chatting with the man as he pointed out passersby who he thought didn’t know how to enjoy life.

It was getting late, so eventually we said goodbye, shook hands, and headed for the subway. (My wife quickly gave me some hand sanitizer.)

Example #4
So I’m waiting for straphangers to exit a subway car, and I make sure the woman in Crocs in front of me gets on first, ushering her in with my arm. She hesitates for a second when the opening comes, I take a step forward, and she elbows me in the stomach.

We sit down across from each other and I ask, “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Why?”

“You invaded my space.”

“I was making sure you got on first.”

She looks away; end of conversation.

Example #5
So I’m on the platform, waiting for the doors to open. When they do, the woman on the right side has her back to the door, blocking half of the entry. I say excuse me, but she ignores me. I ask again; no response. A cluster of us get on, squeezing past her; she still acts like none of us are there as she texts on her phone.

I pass her and say, “Thanks for making room for us.”

I stand across from her, motioning that she should have moved over to let us all on without creating a crush of people. She stares at me blankly.

At the next stop, she moves over, letting people off and then on without incident.

Example #6
So I’m on the bus, and in the back a group of guys are smoking pot, yapping loudly, and spread out so no one else can get a seat. Across from me, a middle-aged man shakes his head and says, “I’d like to bust every single one of them. But there’s nothing we can do.”

I nod but don’t say anything.

“I’m a retired cop. Did my twenty years. There’s no respect anymore.”

“It’s crazy everywhere,” I commiserate. “No one pays their fare. It’s a free-for-all.”

He delivers a brief essay on the current lawlessness. We exit the bus together, and he says, “Trump wouldn’t let this happen.”

He sees the sour look on my face.

“I’m not talking about the man; I’m talking about his policies,” he explains.

“What’s the difference?” I say. “I don’t trust either.”

We spend a few minutes having a good conversation, even though we’re on opposite sides of the aisle. We shake hands, and he heads into a store.

A few months back, I wrote about encountering a young woman on the bus with a Glock on her hip, a different kind of straphanger. I chose to say nothing about it to her or her family; like I said, I’m not a complete idiot.

It’s okay to notice but don’t be judge, jury, and executioner out there (photo by twi-ny/smm)

At one point in Death Wish, Kersey says to Jack Toby, his son-in-law, “I mean, if we’re not pioneers, what have we become? What do you call people who, when they’re faced with a condition or fear, do nothing about it, they just run and hide?”

“Civilized?” Toby replies.

“No,” Kersey says definitively.

Is it really so hard being just a tiny bit civilized these days?

[Follow Mark Rifkin and This Week in New York every day here.]