No, no, I got that part

Three nights ago, I had overshot my subway station on my way home because I stayed on the express one extra stop. So it was that I came to wait on the Nostrand St. C train platform Manhattan-bound. While I waited, a man sat down next to me on the bench, listening to music so loudly in his Dr. Dre beats that I could hear it all quite well even though those are big cover-your-ears cans.

He looked to be a con-ed employee recently off-shift, because he had a blue hard hat dangling from his rucksack. The music was a typical modern blend: a rapper rapping a verse and an R&B singer singing a chorus. The R&B was uninteresting but the rapper had a style I thought I recognized… but couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

The train came and we both took our seats on it, and because this guy sat next to me I tapped him and asked, when he removed his phones, “what are you listening to?”

He looked at me and said matter-of-factly, “Rap. Rap music.”


2 thoughts on “No, no, I got that part

  1. That happens to me whenever I meet a Brit here in Australia. I can tell they’re British from their accent, and so will say, “Where are you from?”, and then they’ll just say “Britain”.

    I’ve learned to finally start saying, “So, where in Britain are you from?”

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