We’ve reached the Wilson stop on the Red Line when a skinny young guy gets on and swaggers to his seat. He isn’t dressed funny and he doesn’t smell or talk to himself, but there’s this angry energy in his strut that makes him seem like a troublemaker. We’re all watching him, but furtively, out of the corners of our eyes.
Troublemaker, folding his arms: “No way. No way am I turning down my music.”
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Troublemaker keeps at this poor fellow, and they argue. Studious talks about live-and-let-live, but Troublemaker goes on about this-is-a-free-world, about nobody-pushes-him-around, and about his musical taste, which Studious apparently doesn’t appreciate. It gets to the point where Studious finally calls Troublemaker an asshole.
The train stops. The door opens. The skinny legs stay out. If anyone’s going to help Studious it had better be now.
Troublemaker, shaking his head: “Uh-uh. First you have to tell me that you’re sorry you called the Beastie Boys crappy.”
We look at Studious out there on the platform, and sure enough, there’s Troublemaker walking fast, straight toward him. He smiles wildly as he gets nearer.
