It's a long ride from Coney Island to Williamsburg, where I'm staying. The girl knocks over her bottle. She gets aggressive with another passenger. She boy spends most of his time trying to calm her down, nuzzling in closer, making her giggle. But she seems to enjoy getting riled up--this long drunken ride, with someone paying attention her, with the whole compartment pretending not to listen and look, might be just her idea of fun. When I'm only a few stations away from my destination, I hear her say something about "getting back into the military." "I wanna go shoot some sand-niggers," she says. "That's what we call 'em. That's what I like to do. Shoot me some sand niggers. Over in ... Baghdad. In...uh...Pakistan! 'Cause I hate those people over there." The boy tries to shush her a little, but that only makes her keep going, louder--daring anyone to react. She says it over and over again--this young drunk American girl, with her hot pants and her obvious troubles--how she can't wait to go shoot "sand niggers."
(Completely unrelated P.S.: I took a bit of a hiatus with the Arabist Review, but am back to posting now).