Coming from a terribly dragged-out first date I stood, stunned and shivering, on the downtown R W platform. Michael Jackson pined over my new headphones about his woman and how she’s got him workin’ day and night. I couldn’t exactly commiserate, considering the failure of finding a woman who seemed worth working for from sun up to midnight. Nonetheless, I clicked with the sharp pluck of those funky bass strings.
Moments later, aboard an E train shabbily masquerading as an R or W, I played a litter air guitar—only the 3 strums that make the disco track so damn infectious. I also practiced the impossible “lean” move (featured in the retrospectively cringe-worthy Moonwalker) with the help of the brushed steel poles and the slowing of the train.
In tune with “Rock With You”, I cruised up and down the stairs of Canal St. station, hopping seamlessly over a transient’s bag of plastic bottles. Passing by the beloved medley of ceramic symbols in the middle of the station, I arrived at the stairs of my dear Brooklyn-bound Q train platform: and that’s when it happened.
Homie stands in the middle of the platform, joshin’ with his boy—a stylish young black man in peacoat, powder blue hoodie and Yankees cap. Homie, a tall scruffy white boy decked out in plaid winter coat and up-turned 90’s style baseball cap, sees me groovin’ up the platform.
The moment happens a mile away, but I’m only a few steps in front of him. He’s been waitin’ for this train, bubbly off of Henny and a little puff of the sticky, buzzin’ round the platform. So a movin’ man like myself comes along and it’s like “Yoooooo! Hold up, slap me some skin, tell me where you been or at least lemme try to sell you a bridge or somethin!”, but no words are released. He’s got no time. He doesn’t even see what’s comin’.
I fake right. I fake left. Spin move! Screen between Homie and his grinnin’ friend and keep on dancin’.
“OOOOHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIT!” I don’t hear the praise because the celebratory counter-culture title track is blazing over my movements. I do, however, twirl my hand extravagantly, give a low bow, and return to my position against the wall. Homie bows lower, his boy calls out to the wild night and we wait for the train.
