Chronicles of a New York Subway Vol. 7

New York, New york. The big city. This is the place where hustlers learn how to whittle their craft from a log cabin down to a toothpick. They are perfect.

Believe me, any way that exists for a person to make money, somebody, ANYBODY will figure out a way to do it.

Now, when I got here, I was under the impression that the main place in this city to make money was regular places. You know, Wall Street, commercial centers, Malls, and other places where people are expected to spend money.

Broadway theaters, movie theaters, Opra houses, and the like

Well, all that is true.

Except, I need to include in my list of performance spaces, the N train express theater. I can see the flyer now

"Come One, Come All! The N Train Express Theater! Some of New York's Best Acts, Including Ju-Ju Wang, the notorious Cigar-Box Guitar Player, and Blacky Blackman, the man who . . .well . . .doesn't play any real instrument, but he does bang a pot strapped to his chest, and run his fingers along an aluminum sheet in his lap to a really . . . . interesting rythem. Admission is FREE! (with your purchase of admission to the new york public transportation system). Come Early, Come Late, just COME and see this pool of talent pour fourth RIGHT when you dont want to hear it!! See YOU there!!

Well, the theater had a performance scheduled that I didn't want a ticket for at all, however, I happened to sit on the "Front Row" train, and I got an eyeful, and an earful of theater bliss.

I dont have my MP3 player, because the battery was dead, so I was deeply involved in a 'Details' men's magazine, learning about whats new, when I noticed a flash of red before me.

This wasn't like a person in a red shirt or something. This was a big flash of red. I mean enough to where if you weren't looking, you would still see it.

It was a big fat man in a little red shirt.

Big fat. Not fat. Big Fat, Im talking years of Meatballs and marinara, Cheese dip, and marshmallows from 1996 were still working their way through kind of fat.

He wore a bright, Fire red blazer that was not really containing all the 'Man' that man was.

I knew it.

A chronicle was about to develop.

I put my magazine away, and looked up to find that there is more than a guy in a red outfit.

It was the opening act! The Broke-o Trio!

Yes, ladies and gents, the Broke-o Trio was ready to play their first selection on the train.

They were stereotypical as ever.

They had on big black hats you see in the movies, they all played guitar, and they lseemed like they found a stereotype, looked at it, and bought the outfit in its full ignorant splendor.

It was so bad, until I thought I had seen them before. They had a short latino guy with a big guitar, a big tall guy who looks like he hogs all of the tortillas, and a another tall guy who looks like he is the direct victim of the big guy's tortilla habit since he was so thin.

The music began as they begin to holla.

I would have said sing, but thats not what they did.

I have heard live music from different latino cultures. Their music sounds great. But the Broke-o trio couldn't afford lessons, and thus didnt take them before they took their show on the road.

I was shocked that they would even BRING their show to such a reputable stage such as "The N" (Thats what the cool people call the theater)

Then the short guy took off his view-obstructing hat, and walked around attempting to garnish a donation to the band.

I knew what it was.

As soon as the hat came off, I fulled my magazine back out, and started reading.

Im not paying the Broke-o trio anything for this unorganized noise.

I feel my money can go to more talented broke people

Besides,

Big guy looks like he was eating just fine.