would be an otherwise eventless Saturday evening, eventless in a way because
of my underestimation of D.C. ‘s arthouse traffic. Both "Being John
Malkovich" and "Rosetta" had "soldout" signs
hanging high above their respective ticket offices. And there I was, disappointed
and listless, at the center of D.C.’s nightlife, the trendy Dupont Circle.
And very quickly I decided to escalate myself down into the monotonous
metro tunnel. I was on my way back. As if the world was echoing my mood
at that moment, the Red Line train I embarked upon was as lethargic as
I was, with passengers lolling on the lifeless vinyl seats. But the coma
was broken cheerfully in no time by probably the most cliché but entrancing
moment in human life: a kiss, a hug, a smile. And there they are, the
couple sitting right in front of me, the couple radiating warmth if not
sizzling heat to the otherwise bleak milieu, the couple in love. As if
holiness always goes hand in hand with blasphemy, a muffled curse drifted
its way from the other side of the aisle, from a swarthy looking guy.
"Faggots!" Oh, my God! (I know I never told you that it was
a gay couple in my narration, but do I have to?) The train soon hit the
platform of the next station. The swarthy guy was on his way out. He got
out and turned around and stared at the couple through the window while
walking back toward the other end of the train. And what came next from
him was happening so fast and so smooth without any trace of staccato.
It was a swing, a swing of loosely clenched fist going straight in the
direction of the couple on the train. The window the couple sitting next
to sent off a muffled cry as soon as the fist touched the glass. I was
sitting right behind them and could feel the window vibrating from the
strike. I was truly truly dumbfounded, looking at the guy with my inexperienced
incredulity. Hatred, disgust, and vengeance were the fire in his eyes
and right at that moment the train was pulling out of the station…
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Chen's Movie Review Page
Boys Don't Cry