Do These Effectively Hide My Thunder?

Whenever you step on a subway in New York City, you stand a good chance of being treated to a performance of some kind. In some cases it comes in the form of a well-rehearsed pan-handle. Often, it's the racist man with the suitcase full of bootleg CDs, or the tag-team duo of movie pirates selling DVDs of whatever terrible horror movie came out this week. The best though, and by best I mean 'the worst' just like 'bad' means 'cool', is the subway musician. My roommate once got to see a man perform acrobatic feats on the subway, and I would have much rather enjoyed that. No, this is the worst kind.

I should step back here and mention that I love subway performers, meaning those who perform in the stations and not on the trains. Its a nice cultural quirk to be able to step off a train at Times Square and see a talented musician performing a rythmic masterpiece on nothing more than a few overturned buckets, or wait for a train in the village with a violinist as your companion. It adds flavor to the day, but also has the added bonus of being avoidable if you don't particularly want to listen to it. You can walk to the other end of the tracks and continue your conversation or listen to your iPod. On the actual train, you are trapped. It's so confined and loud that not only can you not hear whatever music you were enjoying previously in your headphones, but you can't hear anything else over the noise. You can't concentrate enough to read, and in fact, your eardrums stand a good chance of rupturing. You can't leave the car because, in the confined space, they are blocking your way.

Sometimes its merely a few guys singing acapella, or one person with a boombox. What do I get? I get the two guys who step onto the train with 3 large bongo drums and two folding chairs so that they may block anyone from being able to get on or off the train, and they set up shop right next to me, as if to say "Fuck you, Chris, you're not reading another word, and don't even pretend to be able to hear Bruce Springsteen's new album (side note: it is excellent) They proceed to play an 8 minute percussive piece interspersed with occasional breaks during which they would yell out some phrase or object, seemingly at random. At first you thought they had some running theme as they shouted "Africa" and "James Brown", though by the time they got to "Pillow Cases" and "Backgammon" all semblance of poetry was lost. They were then distraught as they moved up and down the length of the train with hands outstretched that no one wanted to give them money for this performance which no one either wanted or enjoyed. They claimed we weren't "showing the love".

I believe in the impromptu performance. I believe in working your way up from nothing. I believe in struggling to survive on talent alone. I do not believe in expecting to get paid for forcing yourself upon people. First, it's rude to assume people want to listen to you, and to interupt their day and their ability to easily get on or off a subway in order to force them to listen. It's also rude to ask them for money when, especially in an urban area, they understand the idea of street performers; if they liked you and had money to spare, they would give it to you without being asked. Then, to act indignant that they don't pay you, as though they don't have bills to pay and mouths to feed with what little their real jobs pay them. Some of us work for a living, and even then don't have a lot of money to spare. If I stood up on the subway tomorrow and started singing "The Lusty Month of May", no one would pay me, and I'd be lucky to make it off the train alive, and I'd be foolish to expect otherwise.

It also reminds me of a time when I was in Philadelphia and my tire blew out. Pulled to the side of the road in a less than reputable neighborhood, I jacked up my car and changed the tire. A drunk on a nearby stoop called out to ask if I needed help (and no, I'm not just assuming he was drunk...he was holding the bottle and could be smelled from a block away). I politely said no thanks, and continuted my task. Once I was nearly complete, all but one lug nut put back on the new tire, he comes over and, despite my protestation, takes the tire iron out of my hand, turns the nut literally one final time, and then asks if I can give him some money for the help...help that was unnecessary, unwanted, and in fact not help. What happened to the American work ethic of hard work for decent pay and what happened to the idea of being a good samaritan? As a progressive, I believe in helping the least among us, and supporting people in their efforts to improve their situations. These people are not helping.