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Sunday, January 15, 2006

it's true. i was in the middle of switching subways for my homeward bound commute when i noticed. i stepped off the first subway and i took a deep breath. i smelled the aroma of sweat, soot and mold. off in the distance i heard something with a beat, so i followed it. as i drew closer to the sound, the remix version of beverly hills cop danced around in my ears, and my heart beat widly with anticipation. what could it be? someone listening to their i-pod too loud? no, it couldn't be, the sound was too rich and real to be streaming through someones earphones. as i continued to follow the rhythm, i stumbled upon a large crowd gathered around. my heart beat faster and faster and i tried to peer through the crowd, but being short didn't help. but then, as someone moved out of the way, there it was. the most glorious thing i have ever seen, a tear formed and tumbled down my cheek. there was the one thing that i had been looking for to make my life complete (sorry, noah). as the person finished moving out of my line of sight, i caught a glance of my very own......OMARION. well, not really Omarion in the flesh, but good enough. there they were...half dressed, sweaty and spinning around on the floor to the beats coming out of their 1986 boom box. a plethora of asian and african americans bending and flexing in ways i didn't know existed to the beat of music. guys had their shirts off, girls had their jeans rolled up, and all were entertaining the crowd and each other. i was watching when all of a sudden someone said, "you just mad, 'cuz today, you suckaz got served." actually, that didn't happen, only in my head, but it would have made my experience complete. all too sudden, i had to leave. as much as i would love to hang out in the subway and breathe rotten air, i had to go to catch my train. but as i walked away, i felt complete and whole. people getting served really does happen, and i think it makes the world a better place. don't worry, Omarion impersonator, i'll return to watch more serving.
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