Mimetic Desire: Track 1 Departure

Hi! My name is E.W. Harris. I am a singer/songwriter. I live in Brooklyn, New York. It’s so exciting to live there, and I’m coming to your little corner of the world to tell you about how vibrant, and inspiring, and (in spite of how hot it presently is) how cool I am…
The local time is 8:22 am at New York Penn Station. There’s a funny anagram that includes penis in there but I didn’t get much sleep so I haven’t thought of it yet. It smells like a clean 1970’s hotel that was remodeled in the 90’s. The ghosts of carpet fresh and bulk commercial grade disinfectant are comforting, like a favorite aunt that went peacefully in her sleep after finally taking that trip to Zanzibar. I’m relieved to be sitting down in the A/C but a bit irritated to be sitting in the aisle as people with window seats prepare to sleep. I love looking out the window, these people should think about what I want a little more. I’m seated next to a particularly small college girl who alternately sips a Dunkin Donuts coffee and fiddles with her smartphone, as the Hudson River valley opens up on either side of the train. I’d introduce myself but I missed the window…as well as the seat adjacent to it. Should be fine, most people should stay a little mysterious.
Not At Penis? To Penis Tan? Nope. Not as funny as I thought.
I got my first shakedown of the trip in the line at the train station. Some dudes at the passport check affecting an air of no-nonsense soap opera totalitarianism in black hats and flak jackets beckoned me with small sharp hand gestures. Who exactly is trying to invade Canada? Me I guess? Like a good boy I played the polite bungler. “Gee wiz officer, whatcha need me to do.” Everybody loves a harmless idiot. 
What’s that over there? Ahh a soapbox. Well then…
In my position the situation was trivial, not even particularly irritating, and for my trouble I even got to cut the line. As a white man I could’ve been a total dick about the whole thing and it would have gone the same way, maybe even better for me. If I wasn’t I’d likely have had to do a few different productions of that one-act already by 8 am, to say nothing of possibly being detained, missing the train, or held for questioning in the matter some other trumped up reactionary bullshit. It was almost it’s own show, a proclamation declaring “Look minorities, we hassle goofy white people too!” So dumb. 
And…dismount…it’s an olympics/soapbox mashup joke..not funny?
We’ve just passed the Tappan Zee Bridge. Tappan Zat? …still not funny? …ok…I’m out

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated E. W. Harris’s story.