Cute and Obnoxious

CUTE

Yesterday I found myself at Golders Hill Park listening to a Polish band wearing traditional costumes play string instruments. Stumbling onto the concert was an accident, and my 91-year-old granny, my aunt and I walked up close to the bandstand so that my granny could hear. We stood there awkwardly under a tree wondering whether to stay. Sitting on the ground is difficult for her. A man ran up to us and gave her his chair. He sat on the grass. How thoughtful!

A few minutes later kids started dancing in front of us in their cute, gawky, uninhibited way. A little nerdy blond girl with glasses, a little black boy with dreads, and two young Jewish orthodox children (a brother and sister).

The park was full of people of different backgrounds and religious practices. Loads of women wearing head scarves, many Jewish orthodox and Hasidic families... etc.

It was a cute moment.

OBNOXIOUS

Accompanying elderly family to hospitals and pharmacies doesn't make for the most thrilling cosmopolitan adventures, but sometimes it has to be done. What proved even more thrilling than the hospital lobby? The bus ride there and back!

Riding the bus with my grandmother is stressful. I want to sit with her so we can get off together and to offer moral support but I can't. Doing so requires scanning every person who boards the bus for gray hair, pregnant bellies and disabilities. How do you know who to get up for? Some people get offended if you offer them your seat, and some are offended if you don't. When can one relax? Not worth it. I go sit in the back of the bus and keep an eye on my grandmother so I know where to get off the bus.

WHO? Obnoxious man with a straw hat and cane. (White, English, big yellow teeth, middle aged/ elderly. It's hard to tell his age. He's either got a lot of energy for an older man or he hasn't aged gracefully and is on the younger side).

WHAT? He interviews everyone on the bus. People indulge them. He chats up all the women around him. Older and younger alike. I think a few women are flattered. He offers his seat to everyone. Most people say no. He intervenes in a situation where a mother is telling her son to sit down. The son refuses to sit or hold onto anything and claims he is a big boy. The old man keeps swinging his cane around. When he first sat down, he hit the ceiling with his cane.

The man smiles with his huge, yellow teeth and talks about how he chats up women whenever he gets the chance, but that the boy is welcome to sit next to him although he'd rather it be the mother. He swings the cane again and tells the boy to grab onto it and come sit next to him. If I were a mother, this would terrify me and I'd tell my son to sit somewhere else. Maybe this is the American in me, who distrusts strangers. Maybe it's the once upon a time New Yorker who doesn't want to talk to anyone and expects everyone on public transportation to be a wacko. Maybe it's the Porteña in me, or maybe it's just plain common sense.

The boy says he wants to sit next to the man.

The creepy yellow toothed man chats up the woman next to me. Where are you going? Where are you getting off? She answers with full details, explaining the stop and the cinema. Why? Why does she indulge him?

He exclaims, oh you're from the north of England! From New Castle.

Yes, yes I am.

See how good I am? And you're a grandmother!

Yes, yes I am.

A grandmother at 18! How did you manage?

I did very well for myself.

Yes, yes you did. Blah, blah, blah. And you have a lovely girl next to you. She thinks I didn't notice, but I did. I always notice beautiful women. And she's Persian. She's Persian, I tell you. You are definitely Middle Eastern, but are you Persian?

[I'm not Middle Eastern or Persian. I should not have answered. I should have just smiled shyly and pretended not to speak English. Situation averted.]

But instead I said, Sure. Why not?

[Shouldn't have said that. I gave myself away as American.]

Oh you grew up in the states but you're definitely Persian.

Sure.

What part of the states?

It doesn't matter.

What part of the states? I went to school in Tallahassee, Florida. What part of the states are you from?

[I don't answer]

I know there are 53 states in the US. People think there are 52, but really there are 53. I know because of Hawaii. Most people don't know that, but I know. You're from Persia but what part of the states did you grow up in?

[I don't answer. I'm also not sitting directly next to him. He's speaking over several people]

It doesn't matter where I'm from. None of your business. Leave me alone.

[Really, I could have done better than that]

Oh. She must be American. She's very unfriendly.

[What I wanted to answer, oh you must be from London, because you're such a nutter, but I didn't want all the old ladies around me to form a mob]

What should I have done? I should have flipped the question and asked him his origin, the origin of his hat, where he learned to chat up women... but no, didn't care enough to do all that.

I've got nothing against being Persian, but I'm not. And I feel no obligation to explain my ethnicity, origin, childhood and adult life to an obnoxious stranger on the bus. Loudly. Why should I be forced into being part of his performance?

Only four more buses to take today.