Matt and I were sitting on the subway this evening, on our way to see ‘night, Mother, when something disturbing happened. The C train stopped at 23rd Street, the doors opened, and we heard someone shout the N word — the racial epithet that begins with the letter N. A man came onto the train — a white guy, dressed neatly in a sweater, a pair of jeans and an overcoat — and he stood there, spread out his arms, and said the word again. No, it was more like he declaimed it, loudly, theatrically, as if he were reciting Shakespeare. The doors closed and the train started moving. Then the guy sat down and said the word again.

A black guy sitting by himself in the next row of seats told him to shut up, which only encouraged him further. The white guy stood up, walked over to the black guy — staggering slightly — and declaimed the N word in the black guy’s face. The black guy then stood up and pushed him into the row of seats opposite. The white guy got up and stumbled along the row, nearly falling into two people sitting together, one of whom pushed the guy away. He sat down again, and then another guy came in from another car and told him to move into a different car. The crazy man yelled the N word again, upon which the new guy slapped him across the face.

At this point, Matt and I and several other people decided to get up and move to a different car; I was worried things might turn more violent.

At 34th Street, the subway stopped, and it just sat there for a while. There was a commotion in the car we’d left. Soon a police officer arrived, and we heard an announcement over the loudspeaker that the train was going to be delayed and could the transit police please come to the northbound track of the C train. We were in a hurry, so we decided to switch to the A track, which required going down a flight of stairs and up another one. The A train didn’t come, and while we waited, we saw a crowd gather near the C train.

The C train finally left, giving us a better view of what was going on. The white guy’s arms were behind him (perhaps he was handcuffed) and a few authority-type figures were surrounding him, as was a crowd of spectators.

A new train finally came, so we got on it and took it one stop north to 42nd Street. Then we got dinner and saw our show, which turned out to be really depressing.

We have no idea if the guy was drunk, mentally ill, or what. But the whole experience was really disturbing.

New York is a strange place sometimes.