Passion and Violence

I have been laying low lately. My dance card is largely empty so I have been getting enough sleep, failing to decide where I want my bookcase and heading to the library to use the internet and check out movies. I made a good bit of headway at the library yesterday. Ordering a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo to be delivered to my branch and sitting for a few hours up in the kid's section where I ordered business cards, downloaded some more of The Walking Dead and caught up on my Words with Friends on Facebook.

I got home and checked my mail and that's when the shit hit the fan. The deposit check that I got back from the first realtor, you know the one that lost that first apartment, IT BOUNCED. 

BOUNCED.

As in insufficient funds. Not only was I out the $750, but also a bank charge for the returned check. I was pissed. I called my parents and then the round of phone calls started. Leaving a stern message on the realty phone, calling the last agent I worked with and then calling the issuing bank. It seemed like there was money in the account and there has been recent activity. The banker could not tell me much, but it sounded like I could redeposit the check and then I would just have to get the bank fee. So, I took the 1 up to W181 and waited in a huge line at the CitiBank only to find out that I could not cash the check. The teller could only tell me so much, but basically she said that something was up with the account and since it was not verified she could not give me the money. She also said that if I tried to re-cash the check it would not go through.

SHIT.

I had plans for the evening, so I need to let this go, hoping that I would be able to get answers in the morning. 

I met Jossie on the platform at W145 and we went downtown to meet her friend Liane. Some brief shopping/browsing and then off to Little Italy for dinner. It didn't wow me, but it was good. Some ceasar salad, pesto gnocchi and a glass of Montepuliciano. We stopped at a little bakery on Mulberry for a Sfigotell and then uptown to see Traci at The National Comedy Theatre.

When we entered the N train there was a guy with a big sign holding a bucket for donations. He ranted about not patronizing Bank of America and Turbo Tax due to their bad business practices and alluded to the raping of young children in India. I was the only person standing since there was not much room to sit with Jossie and Liane on the bench. The raving man yelled that I was blocking his sign and asked that I move over. I did once, but he yelled at me again and then the fun started. I said that I was standing on the subway. And I was not in the middle of the car, I was over the side. He started yelling that I was obstructing justice and it quickly escalated to him calling me a Fucking Cunt.

Yeah, fun.

After about 45 seconds of him now ranting at me, I had enough. The rage from getting screwed over the the realtor TWICE rose through my body and up to my face and I matched his ranting. 

NO, FUCK YOU!

It was a heated mess and the rest of the train car looked on in amazement. He accused me of purposefully coming after him and I put up my hands up in my best Scooby Doo monster impersonation and did my best Hoogalie Boogalie voice. This guy at the end of the train, just bust out laughing. There was a mix of laughter and just people staring in horror. The ranting man was not amused and said that I need to be careful. While he would not do anything, if I crossed the wrong person I would get a bullet in the head. Apparently there was also an Indian man at the other end of the car on the verge of tears. By this time Mr. Raver was calling me a Hindu loving rapist and Jossie said this clearly affected this man.

We switched cars at 34th Street and exited at 42nd where we saw the ranting guy leave the train and head back down to the Downtown platform. That's when Liane called 311 to report it.

The show was fun and we got home safely and I was happy to check my email and see a message from the realtor apologizing for the returned check and trying to schedule when I can pick up a re-issued one. I told him I would come by on Monday. Fingers crossed that he's true to his word.

The last bit of violence happened just a bit ago. It sounded like a child was having a temper tantrum and stomping on the floor. Then I hear whimpering and a high pitched scream and I started getting worried. I just imaged some domestic abuse. A door opened and it sounded like a man did not want a woman to leave the apartment. Once I heard steps I quietly left my apartment, saw blood on the hallway floor and on the stairs and found a crying boy of about 12 years old with a bloody mouth holding on to the wall upstairs. I certainly did not want to get in the middle of anything and endanger myself. I quickly asked him if he was okay. All he was able to say was that it was his brother. I asked how I could help him, but I feared that the brother was close by. The boy was catching his breath and I slid back into my apartment. Luckily, I heard the police come about 10 minutes later. No screaming, no sounds of violence, so I hope all is well.

Maxie is, of course, back under the covers and after all of the violence and acts of passion that's kind of where I want to be, as well.