“What you lookin’ at? Who said you could look at me like that, sir?” He was young, maybe 25, with a stylish felt hat and two bright gold studs. “Who do you think you are? You know what would happen if you did that in the hood? I’ll tell you what would happen. First I’d get up in your face…”

Like everyone on the subway, Micaela and I hoped the stylish young man would stop yelling at the 60-year-old on the bench opposite.

“And then I’d fuck your daughter, man–”

That was too much. “Okay, that’s enough.”

He flashed his eyes at me, trying to mock. “Let me make my point, man! I’m making my point!”

“You’re yelling profanities on the subway.”

He smirked, pulling one of his earplugs half out. “If we was in the hood, me and my goons would fuck you up.”

“Just listen to your music and leave everyone alone.”

“In the fuckin’ hood–”

“Enough of that.” Another man stepped in, and the stylish young man quieted down, only chuckling to himself.

An uneasy silence fell over the car. I told Micaela about being spied on at the conference and tried to make it funny.

“I’m trying to make a point, man!” The stylish young man suddenly stood and glared at me with crazy eyes. “Let me tell you about the fucking hood, man.”

“People just want to go home after working.” It seemed I was stuck with him now. “They don’t want to be yelled at.”

“I don’t want to be paid by you, man! I don’t want your money.”

“You’re yelling profanities on the subway.”

“You don’t pay me, man! I don’t want your money!”

First one voice and then another spoke out. “Stop it! Nobody wants to hear you!”

“In the hood, I’d get my goons–”

“Nobody cares!” A distant voice snapped.

“I’m trying to make a point. I don’t need you people ganging up on me. I don’t need that. In the hood–”

The subway doors open behind me, and the stylish young man came past. He didn’t even look at me, at anybody, and instead to yelling on the platform. “I’m trying to make a point, man. You can’t fuckin’ look at me like that, man!”