Has the youth gone mad...

Monday evening, rush hour, and I'm headed home from work. Hat, scarf, gloves, Soul Tape II on deck. Shortly after crossing the Manhattan bridge, 6 youngsters/hipsters/teenie boppers/hooligan types enter the train and commence to bringing a halt to the common, semi-silent bond shared amongst those—or should I say, we—straphangers who are simply attempting to make our way home from our overworked, underpaid day spent slaving for the "man," to our children and loved ones or solitude.

And as I stand by the door, expending great effort to camouflage myself against the cold, unforgiving steel—my only salvation for the next 15 minutes—I'm forced to endure the naked insolence characterized by obnoxious laughter and out-of-tune choruses to outdated songs bellowed at decibels far too loudly for the confines of this train car. These little...tyrants, presently "disturbing the peace" with their high-pitched cackles are wholly ignorant; oblivious to those around them in the midst of this commute—my commute—the one meant to bring me home to my loved one...and anti-bacterial hand soap. Their acute awareness of their own presence illicits various stares, snickers, and whispers, from those opting out of administering reprimand...myself included. I always find these unwarranted intrusions greatly annoying, especially the ones that dance and hang off the poles "like the monkeys we are said to be." But those interruptions are only momentary, fleeting, and before the migraine has opportunity to take root, they're done and off to annoy the denizens of the next train car.

This botheration brought by this group of delinquents, however, feels more like punishment. For finishing my work on time; for being able to leave the plantation at a reasonably human hour, in order to trudge along with a like crowd of strangers who are similarly at the mercy of mass transits' sketchy hiring policies. Daydreaming interrupted, I hear... "Ooh, a seat!" from one of the xy carriers, as he races to sit down, chivalry aside, casting no regard to any of the 4—ahem, females—in his entourage.
I just smh...

Unfortunately, this seat happens to be right next to me, and the door separating me from freedom, and now becomes the radius to the circle of uncultivated swine that's slowly closing in on me, as they gyrate and gesticulate in the face of someone's grandmother.

2 more stops...

The tasteless profanity and banal inside jokes slowly begin to dissipate as, one by one, the group begins to disperse during this seemingly neverending commute—my commute. I unconsciously draw closer and closer to the sliding, steel barricades standing in the way of me and the staircase that will thankfully replace my reflection in this glass. I ask myself "Were my friends and I like this?? At this age??" I feel sure enough to say "fuck no." I know, personally, I used to think that every "grown up" on the train was my mom's BFF and if they went back to her with news that I was carrying on with one iota of the trashy manner in which these pupils were, shit would get REAL when I got home!! N that fear was enough to keep me on the straight and narrow, especially in the streets. But clearly times have changed and basic mannerisms, such as chivalry, common sense and respect for oneself and your elders have ceased to exist—and in its place, we have...this.

Next stop, my stop

The moment I've longed for from the instant I left work and strode into the bowels of the concrete jungle that birthed me, is now upon me. Sketchy, abrupt halt as the doors open considerably quickly, and out and up the stairs I bolt, boo thang within grasp on the other side...and I reach...and we smooch...and he begins to say something I'm unable to register. He reaches towards me and I recede just a bit, confused as he takes out, my headphones...