August 21st, 2006


To the girls on the G train who stole my ponytail holder and ran away

Dear posse of loud 14 year-old girls,

I met you Friday night on the G-train. You guys were giggling and laughing and screaming at each other while I obnoxiously tried to read my book in silence across from your conversation. I have a lot of nerve-- I know.

As you got out at the Hoyt Schemerhorn stop, one of you grabbed me by the ponytail, slammed my head into the wall of the G-train, slid my ponytail holder off and ran away laughing. I understand this is pretty average punishment for the shit I was trying to pull-- reading right there in public? WTF?!? And a Tom Wolfe novel to boot? How much of an asshole could I be?!?!?

I'm assuming you meant to grab my head and slam it into the wall of the train and that you're not pioneering a new, violent strain of phrenology. My most sincere apologies in the case of the former.

I was fourteen once, and it sucked. I can't even tell you how much it sucked and I'm sure it's not any nicer for you. But try to get through it without making the lives of people around you completely miserable.

You will, eventually, get through it. Sometimes even in once piece. The people you see reading on the subway are the few who made it out of adolescence and lived to tell the tale (the tale is not very interesting, but at least some of the hormonal activity dies down after you hit your twenties).

Please don't drag us back there by pulling us into your poorly-thought out subway pranks. No one who made it out has any desire to go back.

Please keep the ponytail holder as a token of my affection.
If you were merely desperate for eleven cents worth of elastic, I'm glad I could be of service to you, but if you'd just come up and asked for it, I would have given it to you.
I had two more in my pocket.

x-posted to Craigslist/Brooklyn "missed connections"