Guys, Guys– New York Subway Entertainers

1.The drum circle: Chairs and bongos suddenly materialize in the middle of the subway car. For reasons of acoustics that are beyond me, the drums are barely audible over the rattle and shudder of the hurtling train.

2. The gospel quartet: Four black men in dapper, church-like attire spring onto the train, chasing one another like kids on the playground. Then a sudden halt, a clumping together, an intake of breath, and, instead of an exhale, song. Barbershop quartet harmony, impossibly full, in triumphant stereo in contrast to the drums’ whisper ten minutes earlier. The tenor sings improvised solos, bending towards the passengers, who are mostly shy and white. When the song is over, one woman puts down her mystery novel and claps, alone.

3. Ten-year-old stand-up: This kid is going to be a stand-up comic some day, but it’s going to be a rough path. He’s ten, Chinese-American, wearing a white, hooded sweatshirt, and glasses. He’s got killer material, but no one’s listening.

“Guys, guys–” he says, to his friends, seated across from him. “You know how soap, is, like, always slippery? Like how you can’t grab it in the shower?”

His friends keep talking, ignoring him. He goes quiet for a few seconds, then starts back up.

“Guys, guys– You know my dad? Like how it’s so impossible to get him to talk about his past?”

No one bites. His voice falters, and he stares at his hands. Then he laughs to himself and continues: “Guys, guys– Guys! You know how, like, in the living room, you’re sitting there, watching the big TV? You know? And then, like, things start to get romantic? And your parents are there, too?”

His friends keep talking about Game of Thrones.

Hang in there, kid. Screw an engineering degree. Your bits are great — soap, family, sex. It’s just the delivery you need to work on. And maybe the audience.