Unsafe New York: Part Six

"They hate me" or how me and my ex-friend took a trip to the city:

This is a story about irrationality close at home, sneaking up on and to you, behind you and in the shadows of the known. Beware, if you don't catch it, it will engulf you, possess you, have you and destroy you. This is a story about how badly a lack of discipline and a proper upbringing can influence an otherwise sane mind of a young, beautiful, vivacious man.
Here it is. A friend and I met up at my apt and headed over to the city. My beautifu Chinese friend, with long black flowy hair, with life force of a good person, a smart and helpfu lindividual who was starting to go down the down road. What pain it is to loose a friend. Waht pain.
We decided to grab a bite - shawarma from my favorite hall in the wall. (The same place I never got on time to once because the tall and hateful to my race and gender African conductor was squeeshing me between the train doors)
We were amiacably talking and walking over to the store. Once we got there, the guy, my friend, shone in different colors, I, you could say got to know the person in a completely different light. A 26 year old man was jumping up and down next to the counter, interrupting a friendly exchange the vendor and I were having: hey,how are you?
His eyes glistened strangely. "Is this a new coworker that you got?" with a shrill laughter and a piercing scream he inquired. He looked at the girl and made a quiet comment about Mexico. The girl shuddered and shrunk back. That new coworker was of an obvious Mexican desent and apparently dazed-n-confused from no English. My friend picked on her fear and mentioned the "papers." In fact, he openly asked the shawarma guy if the girl "had papers." What the fuck was wrong with this guy, I wish him the fear that the immigrants go through with this whole stupid "paper" thing.
Poor girl heard "papers" and run behind the counter and hid by the grill. She kept squuezing it probably praying that it give her luck... At times like that I see how people start praying to inanimate objects. It is easy. You pray to whatever you think will and can help you.
I was now very angry and confronted my friend: now, is this a thing to say to someone? How can you? I brought you to this place because I like it, this has been my hang out for years and I wanted to give you something as a token of my friendship. Later I understood that these concepts were incompehensible to my friend. Furthermore, the guy (my ex friend) subjected me to the most embarrassing haggling over 30 cents that sounded somewhat like this:
He ordered the food. The price was named - and hung on the wall too, on a very visible menu, yet he stood there staring at a poor, hard working shawarma guy for long, long seconds. Mind you this guy, my friend, never held a job in his life. His mom has the money. Then, with a deep sigh that was meant to indicate to the shawarma guy - apparently not a paid worker in a store but an independent shop owner of some distant middle eastern market in the eyes of my friend (this guy works there, and gets paid minimum) my friend pronounced the following:
(Slowly counting of the pennies - the guy has property in three places! and has been "studying" in a University for the past years years, taking once course earch semester while languaidly wasting his time away chasing girls and harassing bar patrons):
25, 27, 30. 50, 55, 62, ..70.
(Finally) Here is 4.70. (A defiant staring in the eye). Is that ok? (Previously the price was announced as $5)
Vendor: (Looking sadly at him) Ok, that's fine.
(My ex friendLMRF, Vendor:V)
MEF: (With a glistenning in his eyes) Are you sure? yeah? You sure? (Laughter)
V: Yes, yes. No problem. (The vendor starts picking up the change, his hand shakes a little)
MEF: (Bringing his face closer to vendor's) Sure?? Yeah? Not gonna grow poor from 30 cents?
V: Yes, yes, ha ha, yes(he tries to get back to his business)
(I am about to explode, boiling point has been reached. I step in and look at my friend. He is so proud of himself! So proud! )
I: Stop that shit, give the man his money.
MEF: (Mumbling) Dana, please don't be so angry
I: Listen, if you don't got no money, I got you, but stop that. He does not make the prices and he is not responsible for it.
MEF: Okay...no, no, I got the money...here it is...(runs to the table to take it out of his bag)
My ex friend sits down proud of himself, if abashed a little.
I am blushing.
The guy is shaken, so is the Mexican girl.
I am ready to faint. I put my hand into my bag. I give the money to my friend:
Here, you are remembursed.
I needed a drink by now. Alcohol. The Mexican girl was still standing by the grill, looking into the distance. I wasn't sure she was not crying. "Let's get a drink?" I said (I know, big mistake, I should have left right there and then). He nodded.
So we headed over to my favorite Japanese place. Surprisingly, we were not seated in spite of the fact that there were two waiters standing. It was unusual - I frequented the place with different friends and at all times service was very good. They knew me there and liked me too. I always joked with waiters, left a nice tip and spent here many a lonely and painful evening, remembering the moments of past happines with my lover of lovers. I turned around to consult with a friend when I saw him standing with his hair standing on its edges, like a wild horse. His eyes were drilling the waitress with hatred, he was mouthing something. I came up to the waitress and asked to be seated. "They hate us, these Japanese people killed tons of Chinese people, look at how she is looking at me." I started to be scared- I said, relax, let's sit down and have a drink. She didn't kill anyone, I'm pretty sure. We sat down after the waiter unwillingly and strangely coldly sat us down. The waitress came up and brought the menus. "Don't be irrational now, ha? I said to my friend.
Don't be irrational" my ex friend echoed in a hiss to the waitress. I blushed again. The waitress jumped and run away. Some people turned around. A couple sitting next to us looked over. The woman and the man lifted their eyebrows. "They hate me, they hate me. They are mean to me. They bumped into me. See how they look at me?" My ex friend whimpered. I blushed. "Ok, guys, I need to see some id" said the approaching waiter. His eyes were stern. He seemed to say to me: who did you bring? Why does this person speaking of hate and calling us names in our own place?"
That place was always nice to me. I have spent numerous hours there trying to drown my grief over a stomped into the dirt love and an inevitability of separation from the one I loved with all my life. Sakes and fishes switched places, kept flowing, and the pain and anguish seemed to retreat, until I was able to stay consious enough to manage it. These were cool people, and after all - THIS WAS A FUCKING RESTAURANT, AND WE WERE FUCKING CUSTOMERS. "Let's go." I looked at my friend. This was not a good beginning and I did not want to have my friend drunk and irrational, perhaps doing something that could get him in trouble and me, out of favor of this great place. But my friend did not appreciate the act of generosity on my part. His face was glowing with the satisfaction. He had a stretched out grin on his face.
We left. My ex friend did some strange dances as we walked: he turned around himself dancing, and lifted his head above, turning it, and was cursing out. He turned again, now in front of me, and I, walking, bumped into him. This was in public. On St. Marks. The passer-by's threw weirded out glances at him and pitiying looks at me. Even then though, I remained true to my vow of friendship and didn't say good-bye yet. It happened only later, when my ex friend crossed the boundaries of not propriety but human decency, and entered the verbal terra that was forbidden. He broke a taboo.
The moral? Apparently there are a lot of boys in man's bodies out there, spoiled, capricious and with a 5 year old intellect. Apparently there are many mentally disabled people who look normal and hide behind "diversity." There imaginary worlds are real to them, and sometimes they will subotage you, terrorize you, and even force you by using public consensus or some power string they have to force you to acknowledge their delusional reality as "real."
In the next chapter you will get to know what means straight and gay men use to "bash" transguys. Cruel, inhumane and absolutely savage expressions, behaviors, outright lies and devious plots to prevent the existence of another human being. Their crime? BEING TRANS!!!