The thing about New York City is that you don’t have to make this stuff up. It really happens. You just have to be tuned in to catch it.
So earlier tonight, I was en route home after a post-work late workout, on the train, with little fuel left in me. I could feel my face hanging long. I was simply not interested in still being out and about and I could think of little, if anything that could amuse me in this state.
The train was semi-crowded, everyone doing their thing, and out of the blue this man breaks out in song. Now mind you this man looked like Humpty Dumpty. Yes, Humpty Dumty. Imagine the fairytale egg man, only…imagine a real man. He was about five feet tall, wearing ratty canvas sneakers, high-water jeans that were nearly pulled up to his chest, a white Hanes t-shirt tucked in and he had a circumference the size of a California Redwood. Okay, so maybe that’s pushing it, but with the Humpty Dumpty reference you get the idea. He lacked some fashion sense sure, but he appeared an average Joe, pretty normal, not in any way harmful or crazy.
So he started singing, ‘The bride cuts the cake, the bride cuts the cake, hi-ho-the-cherry-o, the bride cuts the cake.” He continued. “The groom cuts the cake, the groom cuts the cake. Hi-ho the cherry-o, the groom cuts the cake.”
Suddenly I’m back in the game. My head turns. I look at him, look around, I notice eyes are rolling and people are moving away from the guy to get their distance. And there I am wondering when it turned from ‘derry-o’ to ‘cherry-o’. Mister Dumpty isn’t bothered. He goes on. “Theeeee (dragging that out so as to introduce the next step the happy couple is about to embark upon). Theeeee bride feeds the groom, the bride feeds the groom, hi-ho the cherry-o, the bride feeds the groom.” And then things start getting loopy. “The groom feeds the bride, the groom feeds the groom, hi-ho-the-cherry-o, the bride cuts the cake.” I was sitting with my head to my chest, biting my tongue so not to burst out in laughter. And to him it all made perfect sense.
Thanks mister, for making my night.