A woman spat on the train today. It didn’t interest me as much as the people sitting around me who spoke about it for the rest of my ride. She had spent the last several minutes covering her ears and closing her eyes, actually looking somewhat peaceful. The guy sitting right next to me was listening to music from his [phone?] with some wireless speaker device. I could hear the music and that never pleases me.
“She have a reason why she do that. Don’t underestimate these people,” said the nicely dressed Caribbean woman. She gestured toward what I thought were white folks on the train. The spitter was a shabby-looking white lady with frilly, bluntly cut, not so washed blonde hair. She mumbled something before she exited the train, after she had spit. I found it funny how enraged the other riders were. I loved that it got them talking to each other though.
I thought she was upset about the music, and having to ride with so many Colored people–apparently she had pushed a pregnant Hispanic woman to sit down when she got on the train. What she mumbled as she exited sounded hostile, and the energy seemed directed at the Black [construction?] worker sitting next to me playing Teddy Riley. It seemed purely intentional to me, and yet they swore she was mentally ill. Likely. But even the crazy operate on some internal logic.