"My" subway platform was, on my arrival, occupied by a highly resonant Kenny G wannabe with a soprano sax and a cranked boom box. He played some of the most aggressive "smooth jazz" I've heard in a long time =80
I murmured a quick prayer for the passengers' ears and moved on. One side effect of using a car is that my Metrocard is now a pay-by-trip rather than unlimited, so I sometimes zigzag downtown and uptown to change trains on the same fare (the other fare cash is turned into gasoline). By a circuitous route, I found myself on the unoccupied "A" train platform at Penn Station. The busier stations are not my favorite during the week because of the number of trains. There's a bit of a formula to platform selection involving the tunnel acoustics, the highest volume your act generates, and how many trains come through, how often (indicates the size of your audience but also how much of their attention you'll be able to command). Frankly, Soprano-Sax Boy would have had no problem playing right through the four trains which were sometimes in the station.
Soprano-Sax Boy was nowhere to be found when a young lady approached me and identified herself as an intern for a local daily free paper. They were doing a piece on subway buskers and would I mind being interviewed / recorded? (So there, Soprano-Sax Boy!) I gave her my card in case I actually make the cut this time (If she finds a B-boy dance group or something like that, I am of course out of luck, but...). I worked hard for a little over an hour, then...my body urgently commanded my attention. This doesn't happen to me very often, but this time I had to close down my show and hie me unto the facilities. (I knocked over someone's suitcase in my tearing haste. sigh). While I was there, I slowly became aware that there was some sort of altercation going on somewhere in the vast porcelain labyrinth between me and the door. An altercation involving angry shouting (demands of "I WANT MY M$#!*&^$ING MONEY!!!!!") and the announcement "There's a police officer coming in!!" I deemed it prudent to remain right where the hell I was until it became niiiiiiiice and quiet again out there.
So here's my question: If my being nudged out of my profitable platform (where the passengers know me and like me) into a place where there was an intern with a notepad was Divine Providence, what the f%$# was that other $#!t ?
If I ever hear from the intern, I'll keep y'all posted...
BTW, apologies to woodwindy
-- my clothes for Investiture won't be new like I once planned. I will, however, be wearing clothes 8) 8)