Sunday, May 18, 2003

HATE: I was waiting for the 190 bus in Port Authority that would take me to my brother's house today when I noticed a disturbing symbol for the umpteenth time. There, scratched into a metal upright by the gate was a small swastika. It never ceases to amaze me how these little symbols of hate pop up in the most unlikely of places. I still remember finding one scratched onto the screen door in the back of my house when I was a kid. Who, in New York City in this day and age, is so filled with hate that they need to express it by stabbing a bent cross into metal? My first reaction was to take out my keys and try to scratch over it. No dice. It takes more than a mere household key and casual pressure to ding those metal uprights. Someone must have some really sharp implements in their pockets for this work. What troglodyte would actually risk being seen putting some serious elbow grease into carving a swastika in a public place? My only consolation was a limited one. At least the misanthrope was going to New Jersey. But hey, I have family there!

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