My friend and I were walking under the Damen el tracks the other night when a beer bottle came crashing down on the sidewalk three paces in front of us. A woman standing on the el platform looked down and began to yell at a man standing nearby.
As we crossed North Avenue, we saw a cop prowling around a car with a flashlight. I told the officer what happened, and he asked if we wanted to file a complaint. I could still see the woman in the moonlight, waiting for the el train.
The officer continued to look at the car before stumbling along with us back to the train station. He stopped outside the doorway, gingerly placing his cigar on top of a phone booth. Once in the station we found the turnstile locked and no one in the ticket booth. We heard a train approaching.
Struggling in slow motion, the officer finally ambled over the turnstile and said, “These bulletproof vests really slow you down.” He sluggishly climbed the stairs, explaining, “That type usually isn’t smart enough to get on the train.” When we finally reached the platform, she was gone. The cop said, “It would have taken an hour of your time anyway,” as he left to be reunited with his waiting cigar.