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Two guys in their early twenties board the Queens-bound F train at the 2nd Avenue station.
The tall, lanky one with the white mesh trucker's cap with a maroon bill plops on a two-seat bench where someone has left a battered copy of the day's New York Post. The front page blares in giant letters, "TARGET U.S.A.: Hamas vows revenge -- against America."
He picks up the paper and considers it at some length. Now holding it so that his companion, an Asian-American in baggy jeans and a black knit cap pulled low, can see the front page from his seat across the aisle,
"Dude, if Israel did it," asks he, "why are they pissed at the United States?"
Stocking cap shrugs and says, "We gave 'em permission or something."
There's a pause.
"You know, 'cause there's been all these bombings and shit."
The tall one again looks over the front page as he lets this wisdom sink in.
After five or ten seconds, he tosses the paper aside. "Dude," he says to his pal, "you have got to see Dawn of the Dead."
Posted by brett at 11:17 PM | TrackBack