“You raggedy mothafucka!”

Those were the words that greeted me. I live in a walk up near the train station. On I Street. The city doesn’t matter. What matters is that I hear shit.

“Now why I got to be all that?!”

“You know why, mothafucka.”

I didn’t know where it was coming from. It didn’t matter.

After I unlocked my bike, I rode to the station. I wasn’t in a hurry. The cold air felt good, and I just wanted to enjoy it. There’s a little hill before the station. On summer days it’s the reason I stop in the station restroom to wipe off.

On cold days, it’s the reason I love being alive. Choking on a mixture of frigid air and exhaust fumes reminds me I am not dead.

I arrived at the station, swerving pedestrians as I approached the gate, raising the ire of the station cop who had come out of the gate mounted on his bike. He must have been waiting to see if I would stay on mine through the gate. Something about rules. I lifted off the bike and grabbed the seat in one motion, steadying it right before crossing the line. He sneered. I just chuckled.

It costs a dollar to ride.

The Mayor said all rides should be free, but the Mayor doesn't manage the subway, so some people make it free by themselves.

I am not above jumping the ticket gate, I am just too clumsy.

Two teenagers, one with a mohawk and the other with a blonde wig and a red hat, raced past me and leapt onto the stanchion between the gates.

“Hey, you kids get down from there. You don’t pay, you don’t play!”

That was the station manager. He was standing near his colleagues, in a huddle, smoking a cigarette. That was all he was going to do about that.

I paid.

And I would pay on the way out too. And pay on the way back in, and out again later. You think it’s only a dollar cause that’s what they tell you on the signs coming into the station. But it’s more like four depending on where you’re going.

That’s eighty dollars a month instead of 20 when you do the math.

If you only travel the weekdays and don’t work weekends then it kind of works. But, some people work or have someplace to go every day, so it’s more than 80 for them, even though the sign says $1.

The I Street station connects to the north part of the city, or northside. That’s where I am going this morning, up near Allison Ave, or as the neighborhood people call it, “All Is On” because there is always something happening there, like a shooting or a robbery or a fight. Which actually sounds a lot like my street, even though it’s different, cause someone was shot last night two blocks down from my place.

Come to think of it, that lady was calling someone a “mothafucka” this morning. Maybe her mothafucka was the one who did the shooting and that’s why she said, “you know why, mothafucka.”

For some reason, the train was delayed, which is not a problem cause it’s delayed frequent enough that you kind of get used to it. The problem is they don’t say why. It’s just that it don’t show up according to the schedule on the wall.

So, let’s say it was delayed because a train driver had to use the bathroom, then we know it would be coming soon and wouldn’t be tempted to leave, which happens sometimes.

But when I have to use the bathroom no one waits for me.

Like last week, when I had to use it, and when I got to the bottom of the stairs, and I heard the train, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I turned around, and then by the time I get back upstairs the doors are closing, and then I missed that train, and then the next was late too, and I never used the bathroom.

Maybe that’s why the Mayor says it should be free, because anything reliable should cost something.

Right now, I am holding out for the next train cause I am staying northside and I am not in a hurry.

On the platform, there was this lady. She spoke Spanish, but the guy she was with didn’t seem to understand what she was saying. I realized they weren’t together, just standing next to each other, when a couple of law enforcement officers in desert-colored uniforms approached the lady. The guy standing with her decided then to walk away. Maybe he thought the conversation should be private.

The uniforms asked her for her card, and she pulled out green papers of some kind, but one of the cops laughed and said for her to show them her train card, not green papers.

When I thought about it, I couldn’t see her jumping the gate like those teenagers, so I am not sure why they would ask her for a card, and not just say "train card" first cause what other kind of card would uniforms be asking this little ol' spanish lady for at the train station?

They all laughed when she showed them her train card, and one guy said, “fuck me,” and the other guy said, “this shit is a waste of time,” and they all shook their heads and walked off.

When the train finally arrived ten minutes after it was supposed to, two young ladies moved in front of me to go through the doors before I did. The car was really full, and I guessed they wanted to see if any seats were available. There was a bench seat reserved for the elderly and/or handicapped that was open, but the girls ran to it and sat down and immediately got on their cell phones.

The lady with the green papers managed to come in right behind me, and she was elderly, although I don't think she was handicapped, but the girls didn’t move for her. She just stood there, wobbling a bit before the doors closed, and certainly as we got started to the next stop. So maybe she was handicapped, cause the way she was standing so painfully made me think something might have been wrong. I think it would have been nice for those young ladies to get up, but they didn’t see the elderly woman shakily trying to maintain her balance cause they were laughing so hard, and whatever they were laughing at needed their undivided attention, so they never looked up.

That's when I heard, “You got five dollars, mistah?”

That was another young lady, except she wasn’t with the other ones. I bet they didn’t even know each other, cause she was standing up and was black, and the other girls sitting down on their phones were white.

“No.” That was a fella with a nice business suit. He was white too, and he seemed nice enough. “I am sorry.”

“I am just trying to get me some McDonald’s.” She said to no one in particular.

“I got three dollars.” That was another fella, except he had on sweatpants and a t shirt, not a nice suit and tie like the nice white guy. He must have liked sports, cause he was dressed like he was going to the park or something.

“You need five dollars for McDonald’s, mistah,” the young lady said, quite annoyed.

“The Chinese girls get McDonald’s for three dollars, not five, and you ain’t clean like they be looking.”

I didn’t understand what was happening.

I have eaten at McDonald’s and you have to have more than three or five dollars if you want to get a good meal with the drink and fries. Maybe she was trying to get the dollar items. And I guess because the Chinese girls are so little, they don’t eat that much, so three dollars is just fine for them.

“Girl, I can get this sucked for cheaper than that!”

That was the guy in the sweatpants. When he said that he pulled his pants down and his thing was showin, and nobody moved, not even the girls on the phone, and the elderly lady was still swaying and holding on for dear life, and then the young lady said, “get yo cheap ass dick out my face!"

When I got to my stop, I was the only one that got off.

I made my way to the stairs, lifted my bike to my shoulder, and started walking down the steps.

I always made sure to hold the handrails, even though I know people don’t wash their hands all the time, I just felt like I would rather catch a cold than slip and fall flat on my face and the bike I be carrying hit me in the damn head too.