No man on the planet personifies the soul of his city better than this old coot reps New York. New Yorkers are used to being shit on by their surroundings. It doesn’t matter if it’s high prices, vile pests, or getting run the fuck over by a speeding subway train. The best way to go through life in NYC is to look ahead, take your lumps, and avoid complaining because nobody’s gonna listen. This guy saw the B train barreling down on him and he didn’t panic. He lit a hoon, cleaned up the tracks a bit, and maybe made a few cents once he recycled those cans and bottles. When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. Or in this case, pick up your Coors tall boy at 11:40 AM and do a jig right in your fellow straphanger’s eyeball.
Actually fuck what I said earlier. This guy doesn’t want to be a product of his environment. He wants his environment to be a product of him. That’s why he didn’t even glance at the members of New York’s Bravest when they were looking for him. He just cleaned up a little speck of his city, got his revenge on the train by throwing a bottle at it, stunted on a few locals, and was ready to walk away in plain sight like he was leaving the Bellagio with Danny Ocean and the fellas at the end of Ocean’s Eleven until someone narc’d on him. I salute you, random, probably crazy, most likely mole person. Almost getting run over by a train, smoking a cig in those rat-shit infested subway tracks, and walking away with some pep in your step once you got back on that platform is a level of Zen I didn’t know was possible before today.