Dear Man in Dirty Red Tee Shirt on 7 Train,
I realize that you've probably had a tough life. I do. And I'm sorry for that one leg of yours that is significantly shorter than the other makes you walk with a limp. I'm sorry that your malformed foot doesn't quite fit in your sneaker and that it takes you longer than the average crazy person to make it down the middle of the aisle during your nightly canvassing of the rush-hour 7 train.
But I have a bit of advice for you, red-shirt wearing, hostile beggar. When trying to garner empathy from your fellow commuters (and collect gin money), it's best not to threaten to kick our asses if we don't give you change.
When you pulled your shirt up to show us the deeply-grooved scars on your back, and that short Mexican guy snickered, he was only doing so out of discomfort. I don't think that calling him an Oompa-Loompa-Looking-Motherfucker really added anything to the mounting tension you created by being both hostile and vulnerable at once, concurrently begging for money and telling us we are all assholes.
If I might, perhaps I can offer you a bit of advice, sir. Maybe take a trip to Times Square and watch how the more polished, seasoned spare-change solicitors do it. I think the best course of action is:
1. Enter train at a stop.
2. Briskly walk the aisle giving spiel about how you're living in a shelter but trying to get a job.
3. Ask politely for extra change.
4. Tell us God Bless.
5. Exit at next stop so as to not to create discomfort among fellow passengers, and try again in the next car.
I think that's really what works.
Here's what doesn't work:
Standing in the middle of the train, stop after stop after stop, shouting expletives with your shirt hiked up over your head, calling your fellow riders 'Foolios'.
It just makes you look silly.
Just a little friendly advice, sir. Food for thought, if you will.
Have a blessed day!
1 day ago