public service

Riding the trains on a day like this one, I caught a glimpse into the intimate exchanges between lovers. Not lovers who sniff and devour each other but lovers who simply love and bear gifts. Public transportation offers no nooks in which to caress. Mofos be grabbin' each other e'rywhere and in plain view. Practical men in wool coats with single roses wrapped in cellophane. Mothers with heart-shaped mylar balloons and plush teddybears. Older, solemn women with shiny, pink Victoria's Secret shopping bags quite possibly containing slinky delights. It's always the Hungarian ones.

Mr. Kansas and I plotted. We wanted to be around couples drowning in the perfunctory pleasantries of the obligatory Valentine dinner or perhaps couples so tightly "wound" that they might well begin fornication on the table top. Role play was discussed but not the sexy kind. More he as the boyfriend who proposes, I as the girlfriend who declines and then he as the infuriated reject who throws a glass of wine against the wall. I had my diamond ring and a spare ring box ready to go.

I stood outside the Focus Features office picking lint off my yellow mittens when Mr. Kansas appeared and immediately pulled out his Marlboro lights. "It's been that kind of day," he explained. We walked up towards Union Square and exchanged our last minute Valentine gifts - mix CD from me to him and from him to me a handmade card printed off the internet and decorated with Hershey's chocolates wrapped in seasonally colored foil. I'd say it was fair.

We reached Yama Sushi on Irving Place and 17th Street which was highly recommended by Mr. K's friend the sushi snob. I assured him that there was no sushi snob greater than I but when I saw "yellowtail jalapeno roll" on the specials board, I relented. Rolls and rolls were ordered, lobster tempura, spicy salmon and avocado with flying fish roe to name a few. The fish was acceptable and the rolls were hearty and satisfying though not life altering. Those only exist in L.A. Of this I am certain. The dinner was great. The couple watching was mundane. Mr. Kansas and I had to resort to speaking to each other. I'm sure he wasn't paying attention. Like a real date!

Sushi and two gingerales later, we walked to Union Square proper in search of a movie or a dessert - like a real date! The movies were sold out and the wait at Max Brenner's was laughable. Spontaneous me decided to drag him into a Whole Foods where we got blueberries on sale and slices of almond creme and black and white cake. We made our way to a Starbucks where we got coffee and tea as well as prime seats for observing a very odd couple sitting along the window. We literally turned our seats to face them as the girl coddled not cuddled the boy as if she were consoling him because of some tragedy. She seemed motherly. He seemed despondent. We certainly weren't. We were stuffed and delighted when we said goodbye and boarded our respective trains.

Attention ill-at-ease ladies and gentleman riding the Uptown A on this cool Valentine's night at midnight: Although you may believe it does, staring at the coffee cup rolling back and forth on the floor does not make you invisible. Remain calm. The vociferous young men sitting in this subway car will not harm you. They care little about your fur coats and your Coach bags. Do not become alarmed. Their conversation may be loud and insistent against your thin eardrums but do not mistake it for a discussion on how to assault you. The reason I am able to stand literally in the middle of their group is because I have my earphones in but am not listening to music. I understand who they are and what they are saying and am unafraid. Mainly because I'm taller than they. But for you, below are a few facts to help you cope with your discomfort:

1) They are Puerto Rican gangbangers.

2) These particular gentlemen are "Bloods." They wear the color red to distinguish themselves as members of the faction. You know, like all of your friends at political rallies.

3) Their presumably antagonistic tone towards one another may mislead you in thinking that they will become violent with each other but note their references to the same "shawties they hit" (sexual partners.) Clearly, they are friends. In fact, if you pay attention, they are actually commiserating on the unsurprising turn of events when a particular shawty lamented to the boy in the red bandana the fact that one of his friends "stopped fucking with her because she wouldn't let him hit it." I think everyone agrees that she should have let him hit it.

4) Even though they are not black, they are allowed to use that word that you're not allowed to use. THAT word.

5) "Narc" is slang for what your self-righteous nephew does for the police department.

When you arrive at your station, please rush hurriedly off the train without making eye contact with them as they won't be looking at you to begin with. Save yourself the trouble of feeling sorry for their street-weary existence as they quite enjoy living their lives like hip hop cliches. And remember, like you, they are simply human beings who ride the train. The only difference being that they aren't afraid of you.

Any boy who prevents me from weeping in public due to my loneliness on this Hallmarky holiday is doing a public service. So, thank you to Mr. Kansas for keeping the streets dry and for keeping me company on the day of wine and roses. I've selectively forgotten that his plans for drinks fell through due to a friend's illness and I've also relegated his lack of other options to the far corners of my mind. Happy, happy, deluded Valentine's Day. I truly enjoyed my day in that spoony way. Unlike this girl:



Eeek.