Just a little beat so I can get something to eat

I stood on the uptown 4/5/6 platform in Union Square and decided to take whatever train arrived first. I heard the metallic grind of wheels-on-track as a 6 train rode the curve into the station. I got on and immediately looked at the electronic board to see how many stops I had before my destination. Hmmm, 9 stops.

The ride was relatively uneventful, and especially crowded after stopping at Grand Central terminal. Then, at 68th street, an old woman boarded with a snare drum that looked like its snaring days were long gone. The typical curled wiring and cables of the drum were hollowed out, and the drumhead was covered with black and grey electrical tape. She placed the drum on the floor in the center of the car and pulled two thick dowels from her tattered coat.

"Excuse me ladies and gentleman! Just a little beat so I can get something to eat."

She began druming wildly.

"This ain't no joke, cuz I'm really broke. It's cold out there, and if you've got somethin' to spare. Nickles, dimes, quarters, pennies, I don't care. Whatever you can spare."

I looked around. No one was even looking up. Business men read their copies of The Wall Street Journal and Financial Times. People listened to ipods. People pretended to be preoccupied with the tassels on their scarves or buttons on their coats. A man whittled a piece of wood that looked like it once belonged to an outdated kitchen cabinet.

I reached into my bag to fish around for my wallet. I opened the change purse and emptied it. The woman walked toward me with her hand outstretched and I placed the loose change in her palm. She thanked me, and continued on past. No one else gave her anything.

The train slowed as we approached the 77th street stop, and she quickly shuffled back to the center of the car to retrieve her drum. As she passed me again she said, "God bless you dear, and thank you again."

I smiled and nodded.

The train stopped and she exited. The business men exited with her, newspapers folded and tucked securely under their arms or in attache cases. I put my earbuds back in and resumed listening to Matt Nathanson sing the lyric: "Tell me do the people all take care of you?" as the train gained speed toward 86th street.

Total Contribution: $0.46
Somewhere between 68th and 77th streets