#33 In Which You Get Out Of Lying By Saying Something Literally A Fact But Nowhere Near The Truth

Another train story starting at Bleeker Street on the uptown 6. I am sitting there and three separate groups of young Asian people get on over the course of the journey. Each group has 3-4 individuals and the dominant gender is male. They stick together and talk a lot, of course, in their own language. Though I understand nothing they are saying, one group I peg as speaking Cantonese. They are tall boys with not very good complexions and they are wearing sturdy dark canvas backpacks. I know, I mean, I sense they are very good at math and it makes me sort of agitated because I am not and it seems evident that they are predisposed genetically for mathematical aptitude and I know this sounds racially wrong but it is coming from a place inside me of admiration and envy.  They are also bi-lingual and that irks me as well, because I am not. I only speak one language and this is it.

At Union Square another group gets on and my guess is they are speaking Japanese. They are a little bit older and much better dressed than the Cantonese boys. The cumulative wardrobe value of this group is, by my rough calculation, estimated somewhere between $1500-$3000. Very simply stated and nicely tailored. Good quality shoes and haircuts. However I notice a tiny plastic wire hanging off one woman’s Michael Kors handbag and I wonder if she bought it discounted at an outlet shop somewhere. It is also a light colored leather and in good shape, not stained on the bottom which also impresses me because there is no way I would not trash something like that in no time. The leather would be smudged with dark brown stains if it belonged to me. I’m a pretty sloppy girl.

I notice that one of the gentlemen in the Japanese group is slyly eyeing an Asian woman who is seated a few people over (who are also Asian, Korean I think, and seem be an informal group, but I am not sure if they are together) from where I am sitting. I can’t see her face fully but get the sense she is very pretty. The young gentleman is wearing tortious shell Warby Parker glasses, which is just a more sophisticated version of Harry Potter glasses, and they look cute on him.  At 42^nd Street there is a mass exodus as they all leave at the same time and I wonder where they are going and why all the Asian kids got off at Grand Central. I decide to follow them and I don’t get very far because at the top of the stairs they all disperse and go in different directions so I head back down to the subway platform and wait for the next train.

I get on the next 6 train and there is a huge crowd of Orthodox Jews and they all stare at me and then avert their eyes and continue reading their small, tattered prayer books.  I lose interest pretty quickly and decide not to stare anymore.