This year marked the fortieth anniversary of the Kitty Genovese murder, so we heard quite a bit about her here in the New York papers, including an interview with her widowed girlfriend (who knew she was lesbian?!?).
I once and only once became involved in an incident on my local subway. The train was PACKED else I might not have had the courage. A hopelessly drunken Mexican day laborer was bothering a trannie (transvestite or transexual I didn't quite figure out) who was on her way to one the queer cha-cha palaces a few stops after mine. I managed to insert myself in between the two and sort of glower at the man, asking him to leave the lady alone. Miss Thing RAN and didn't say thank you, which, well, I understand, but I did have problems with the drunk until we reached the next station. It was the station before mine, but it was worth it to get away. I then ran to the token booth and reported the drunk; the token booth clerk wasn't impressed. I left my name and phone number for the police and walked home.
The only other time I had a problem on the train was shortly after I'd led the queer St Pat's Day parade in my neighborhood in Queens. All the little Irish pockets of New York have their own parades which all lead up to the main one up Fifth Avenue on the 17th, a pattern replicated by the queer pride parades. My neighborhood was the only Irish neighborhood which didn't have its own parade, so a member of the Lavender Green Alliance promptly organized a parade committee and then began inviting any and everyone to swell the ranks as the local Irish community was having nuthin' to do with it. By some good fortune I found myself leading the parade, serving as one of the anchors of a giant balloon arch. The usual protesters were there carrying placards, rosaries and praying. I thought nothing of it until two weeks later I was on my subway line and I felt eyes stairing at me. There, just opposite was this little old lady, tiny, with a blue rinse, staring, staring hard. We reached the subway stop, she stood up, glared at me and threw clenched teeth hissed "Sodomite!" To which I replied "Yes, every night."
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2004-09-22 05:01 pm (UTC)I once and only once became involved in an incident on my local subway. The train was PACKED else I might not have had the courage. A hopelessly drunken Mexican day laborer was bothering a trannie (transvestite or transexual I didn't quite figure out) who was on her way to one the queer cha-cha palaces a few stops after mine. I managed to insert myself in between the two and sort of glower at the man, asking him to leave the lady alone. Miss Thing RAN and didn't say thank you, which, well, I understand, but I did have problems with the drunk until we reached the next station. It was the station before mine, but it was worth it to get away. I then ran to the token booth and reported the drunk; the token booth clerk wasn't impressed. I left my name and phone number for the police and walked home.
The only other time I had a problem on the train was shortly after I'd led the queer St Pat's Day parade in my neighborhood in Queens. All the little Irish pockets of New York have their own parades which all lead up to the main one up Fifth Avenue on the 17th, a pattern replicated by the queer pride parades. My neighborhood was the only Irish neighborhood which didn't have its own parade, so a member of the Lavender Green Alliance promptly organized a parade committee and then began inviting any and everyone to swell the ranks as the local Irish community was having nuthin' to do with it. By some good fortune I found myself leading the parade, serving as one of the anchors of a giant balloon arch. The usual protesters were there carrying placards, rosaries and praying. I thought nothing of it until two weeks later I was on my subway line and I felt eyes stairing at me. There, just opposite was this little old lady, tiny, with a blue rinse, staring, staring hard. We reached the subway stop, she stood up, glared at me and threw clenched teeth hissed "Sodomite!" To which I replied "Yes, every night."
If only...