the babushka

It was after infotech class around 6pm when I hobbled on the L train to make my way home to Williamsburg. My broken hamstring was still in heal-mode, melding itself together under my black jeggings after an intense squat I made while cleaning the previous Friday had caused my muscles to separate. I hoped there would be an open seat on the train to rest my tender muscles that had been abused avoiding the mounds of snow-slush and gum spittle that compose New York City's streets in February. No such luck.

I scooted to the inner bar where I stood above a male hipster reading poetry, a fashionista with a gold Miss Sixty purse and a Babushka. She had a bright blue scarf on her head and a scowl on her face. She looked like a lot of old ladies I've seen milling about, but this was no ordinary Babushka. This was a Babushka with a purpose! However, I want to take the time to make sure you understand what I mean by Babushka. Just because you wear a scarf on your head like this lady -->


does not make you a Babushka. This is what I call a legit Babushka.

.

My first reaction was, "omg I love Babushkas!! she's so legit!!" She looked nervous though and her eyes flitted around the train. She looked at a little boy being jerked around by his very irked father holding a Dunkin Donuts bag; she looked at the young fashionista, and on several occasions made eye contact with me.

Then I noticed she was holding a pamphlet that said something about a "watchtower," and we all know what that means. "Awww shit," I thought. Another crazy about to stand up and start hailing the fire and brimstone at us modern sinners. But then she started flipping through the pamphlet's pages and reading a little, so then I thought, "oh maybe one of the crazies IN the train station threw the pamphlet at her and she thinks the pictures are pretty or something."

She stayed seated in front of me for the majority of the trip until the Lorimer stop, the stop right before mine. She grasped the handle to her right to lift herself, looked to her left and as if she had been planning this the whole time, handed the watchtower pamphlet to an unknowing teenage girl three seats down with brown curly hair and an ipod, and said, "YOU WILL NEED IT. TAKE IT." She then hobbled off the train and disappeared up the stairs.

The girl took the pamphlet and fingered through the pages as if interested, which I found strange. Doesn't everyone know what these things contain and discard them quickly for fear of accidental brainwash? Well, sometimes I find their overstament entertaining and I keep em around. For example:




This is all fine and dandy, happens everyday right? However, there is one thing that keeps bothering me about this encounter:

Why didn't she give ME the pamphlet??