To be filed under P for Playah Hatah:
Setting: the downtown 6 train, 59th - 50th street.
Dramatis Personae: a shapely 20-something woman of a certain race with a JPMorganChase totebag, two 30-ish gentlemen of a certain race with knee-length T-shirts, sitting three occupied seats down from the woman. A 30-something white guy standing in front of them all.
The young banker studiously ignores numerous gestures and pleas from the playah: [waving across 2 people] "Miss, Yo, miss!" Playah hatah, meanwhile, pulls on his friend's arm, trying to get him to stop.
Finally making eye contact, the playah mouths something about a number. "you a model, right?" "No." "Awww, you should be. Now--"
The train pulls into 50th st and begins to slow. The banker grabs her bag and moves toward the door. She's decided to walk the last 8 blocks to Grand Central, or wait for the next train. She disappears.
Playah [loudly]: "Yo, why you messin' with me while I'm workin'?"
Hatah [louder, exasperated]: "Damn, bitch ain't gonna give any shit up. Why you embarass yourself like that?"
Playah: "You see that ass and don't even try nothin'? What, you a faggot? Damn."
Same train, same car 42nd-33rd st.
Dramatis Personae: two seated whitey white white office casual guys behind a 30-something white guy.
WWWG1: "A thousand bucks?? You can't expense that!"
WWWG2: "But it was client development."
WWWG1: "There is NO code for a lapdance [pause] Dude, a thousand bucks??"
