It’s the same nightmare we all go through: family coming to town. They’ve never been to New York, so you take them to all the places you usually avoid (Empire what?), teach them how to cross streets (Run!) and (worst of all) lead them through the subway. This time it was my friend Chris’ relatives from the Midwest. Reluctantly, I agreed to meet up with them in Times Square, where they would be having Gospel brunch at B.B. King’s Club.
After washing down our eggs with multiple Bloody Marys, causing his family to raise many a disapproving brow, we paid the exorbitant bill and gathered the gaggle to head for the subway. The train was of course filled to capacity, but we managed to squeeze in. At the next station, 34th Street, a black man the size of four refrigerators ducked under the doorway and fit himself into the packed car. He was humungous, accompanied by two lanky girls tucked under each broad shoulder. As the doors closed, he turned to talk to one of them and in advertently bumped into another passenger.
“What the fuck man! Don’t you got no manners?” squeaked the violated straphanger. I turned to look: The voice came from a weasel of a white guy dressed in full homeboy attire, complete with gold teeth and dangling bling. He was no taller than 5 feet.
“I’m sorry, man,” the Fridge replied. “It’s just so tight in here.”
“Then why you have to go pushing into a space you can’t fit in, ya dummy!” Dummy?
“What’d you call me?” the Fridge stammered. As his nostrils began to flare and his eyes grew wide, the two girls beside him pawed at his arms, trying to keep him calm.
“Chubby, forget him,” one of the ladies begged.
I would’ve laughed at the endearment, but the situation was too tense. As Chris’ relatives shuddered in fear, we tried to look reassuring.
“You better shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you!” Chubby thundered, losing it.
“Fuck you!” Whitey retorted. Was this guy a complete idiot? Chubby could have crushed him with his baby toe.
All of a sudden Chubby decided to do just that, lunging at the little guy and picking him up by his neck. Whitey’s limbs flung wildly as passengers shrieked in panic. Everyone tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go. When Chubby finally dropped Whitey to the floor, his gold teeth had had fallen out and his Rocawear hat gotten crumpled and stomped. His shaking hands gathered them up, and he proceeded to pummel his way through the horrified onlookers, until he got to the far end of the car.
By this time, the train was finally pulling into Union Square and everyone was more than ready to spill out. Whitey was perched right against the door, ready to dart as soon as it opened. The car slammed to a stop, but before we were freed, Whitey just had to spew one last insult: “You big fucker! Told ya you couldn’t kill me! You big dummy!”
“What did you say?” Chubby bellowed, and began charging through our cowering bodies—Whitey’s delivery was off and the doors hadn’t yet opened.
We all resumed our shrieking as Chubby once more picked Whitey up by his neck, threw him to the floor and proceeded to pummel him with his mallet-like fists.
I can’t tell you how it ended, because suddenly the doors opened and everyone charged onto the platform like a wave of refugees escaping some war-torn land. It was finally over, at least for us—if not for Whitey.
Upstairs in Union Square, Chris and I tried to calm down his terrified relatives. After much assurance that these sorts of incidents really are rare, they felt better. Hours later, Chubby was out of our lives and almost forgotten, when all of a sudden we saw his mountainous body moving towards us along a Tribeca street. This time, however, he was without his ladies and talking into a cell phone. Before I could stop them, Chris’s relatives’ voices rose up collectively.
“Look! It’s Chubby!” they screamed.
He cocked his head away from his phone and looked at us, perplexed. He shook his head in bewilderment and said into his phone, “Man, you wouldn’t believe what a crazy fucking day it’s been. Now there’s white folk hollerin’ at me. People in this city are fucking crazy.”
Yeah Chubby, they really are…
