While in search of the black-and-white striped unicorn that is the perfect New York apartment–specifically in Brooklyn where all the cool creative people are, I heard–I encountered a member of the holler-men species on the Q train. I’d unwisely chosen to disarm my iPod for the ride.

guy: [Taps me on arm] Hey.
lucky: [Turns head, notices dude, okay looking, discolored lips. Tries not to be superficial. Fails]
guy: You from Brooklyn? [Hood dude alert]
lucky: Nah. [Turns away]
guy: You look familiar.
lucky: Hm. [With a half nod upward. Looks away]
[Silence]
guy: Where you from?
lucky: Queens.
guy: Jamaica right?
lucky: Kinda. [Yes]
guy: Kinda, like you just be there but you not really from there?
lucky: …Yeah.
guy: Oh. Beat. What’s your name?
lucky: *Blank stare*
guy: What’s your name?
lucky:
guy: My names Shalik. I’ma tell you my name since it’s so beautiful.
lucky:
guy: Where you goin’?
lucky: Brooklyn.
guy: Whatchu goin’ to Brooklyn for?
lucky: [inaudible]
guy: I can’t hear you.
lucky: Stuff.
guy: You can’t tell me?
lucky: Nah. [I'm going to see an apartment that I probably won't like]

The train doors open. As someone passes by me to get off, I inch inward, away from the hollerman and from speaking distance. I get distracted by the subway map. Then, drifting back into consciousness, I overhear “guy” talking to another girl who’d just come on the train.

guy: Where you from…?
gal: Queens.
guy: What you goin’ to Brooklyn for?

[inaudible]

guy: I can’t wait til I get my license. I’ma act a fool when I get my license. [Then you can't tell him nothin' right?]
gal: Why don’t you have a license?
guy: I been busy doing other things-babysitting…