On subway car 666 this morning, I had just heard a mobster analyze the near fight we watched on our bus detour — two insecure men needed to ensure themselves of their masculinity, threatened lawsuits, hitting, slapping (but not punching). I could tell the mobster was watching me out of the corner of his eye from the other end of the subway car. We descended into the subway tunnel, things got darker and I thought, “Great, I’m on car 666, the lights are going to go out and the mobster is going to attack me in the dark and whisk me away to some unknown location.”
Thankfully, he moved to another car and got off a few stops later. I arrived at Willow Chicago late, but unharmed. And none of this is fictional.
