More Under the El

One of my readers (my daughter) had some suggestions about the first little scene in the description of my afternoon under the El. I told her in more detail what I actually saw:

It was a whole little drama, in a way: The young woman was skinny with a blond pony tail pulled back tightly from her sharp-boned face. Her hooked nose was strangely red and her mouth tense as she smoked. She sat with her legs tightly crossed, and her friend, a softer, rounder build and more relaxed, stood while they talked. I was too far away to hear much, because the smoke was killing me, but I heard "the welfare" and "she says to him" in an angry tone and such snippets. At one point a wiry, banty rooster of a guy wearing a cap turned backwards with the logo "Trojan" stopped to chat. I wondered if he used them. A blond little boy of two or so sat beside her in full smoke, drinking a soda. They were there at least ten minutes, and then a muscular, hostile man with a shaved head and many tattoos on his bare arms strode up the street. He glanced over at her with a slight nod of his head and kept walking. She jumped up quickly and caught up with him. He leaned in toward her, she leaned away from him, then they hurried away.

That's more what it really was like.