Skimming the Surface

So I read about these kids once in the New York Times, I think.


But here they were today, on my subway platform, in the hip-hoppity flesh. I was suddenly watching a real-life episode of “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” you know, hangin’ with DJ Jazzy Jeff and Will Smith, when he still had square hair. These guys pride themselves on their flat-tops and high-tops. One said to the other, “I saw this ‘Yo MTV Raps’ T-shirt.” “I want that shit so bad,” said the other one, a guy holding a 1-foot-by-2-foot silver boom box. They’re disorienting, time-shifting, blinding the masses with primary-colored clothes. I like them.


Last week, I maneuvered on the sidewalk past a couple of Stadtler-and-Waldorfy old dudes. They were maybe creeping up on 70.

“Do you want to learn about the Lord today?” one said to my back as I passed them.

Before I had the chance to turn around, the other man said, “Nah, she doesn’t want to learn about the Lord. She believes in Hillary Clinton. To her, Hillary Clinton is the Lord.”

Nice of them to sort that out for me.