The subway is a funny place - where you sometimes see funny things. One of the stranger moments I've had happened one sunny morning not too long back.
It was 10:00 am and I boarded the Q in Manhattan, headed for Brooklyn. I sat down and began reading my book and was soon in my own travel bubble. At Canal Street, the doors opened next to me and a man got on the train. He crossed the car to the seat opposite me. With one hand, he grabbed a nearby discarded newspaper, flipped it open and dropped it onto the floor. Then he set down bags he'd held with his other hand.
The 2 bags, translucent white plastic, were filled, budging full of what appeared to be ... bloody leg bones? I studied them - bones, yes, stacked loosely. Bits of red flesh and white fat were visible through the bags. Blood trickled out of the corner of one bag. Cow legs, perhaps?
I looked at the man. He looked normal, mild mannered even - certainly not like a psycho killer carrying away parts of his latest victim. Clean too - not a spot of dirt or... um ... gore on him. Next I looked around the train car and did a bit of mental calculating. Plenty of people = my odds are pretty good - he can't get us all, right? Soothed, I returned to my book, having decided that there was no story here.
Fast forward to the Atlantic Street stop in Brooklyn. I looked up from my book and noticed 3 younger guys step onto the train and move to sit across from me. Then I noticed that the Bone Guy was gone. At about that same time, the 3 guys took note of the now bloody newspaper on the floor. The paper was coated with blood, pools of it, with a long, thin stream of blood heading off towards the rear of the car. And on my side of the newspaper, I could see a good sized smear, as if something heavy had been dragged away.
The guys were horrified, and certain that they'd just missed something really, really bad. They looked around the peaceful car, searching for more blood, searching for victims. They quickly discussed a couple of scenarios, stumbling over each other - what went on here? Who got hurt? Was it a knife fight? A lover's spat? A drug deal gone wrong? As the doors close behind them, trapping them on the car, they move cautiously off to my right. They sat down, still wary, still discussing the dangerous situation they'd found themselves in.
I knew what had happened. I knew who got blood on the floor. I considered explaining things to the 3 younger guys. I did. But I decided against it.
Why?
I liked their versions better.
