only in fucking brooklyn
so, i notice earlier in the week that decorations are up, signs are posted, children are wearing cute little costumes and face paint. purim is here. okay. fine. after last year's purim -- who could top the old hasid dressed up as a freaking PUERTO RICAN, with baggy jeans, bomber jacket and a puerto rican flag as a do-rag -- oh wait, maybe it was the guy in the asian-in-a-rice-paddy costume leaving my apartment building -- i think, i'm ready for anything.
i step off the J to the blaring of a party bus driving down Broadway-- a huge souped up luxury bus blasting jewish music with lights flashing inside. ok, fine.
i then turn the corner on Rodney, where the hasidic social club is. an SUV blaring music lurches into a parking spot, with one wheel up on the curb, and the driver, dressed as a pimp -- i kid you fucking not, cane, bright neon trench coat, the whole bit -- stumbles out and runs into the club. ok, fine.
and THEN, as i'm crossing in front of the car, the guy in the passenger seat, a young guy, stumbles out. he is dressed head to toe in prison stripes and wearing a 2-foot black afro. he is saying something to me. i ignore him, as i would any stupid drunk man at 5pm. he follows me, stumbling across the street and halfway up the block to Division, calling something to me, pointing his finger at my face, and for a moment looking seriously as if he's asking a question.
i turn down my ipod to listen. i mean, it's rare that hasidic men don't hug the wall or otherwise pretend i don't exist (except my landlord. he's honestly great), so why not engage this once? even though my neighbors won't shake my hand -- "oh. my husband doesn't shake hands with women" -- this kid clearly has something he wants to get off his chest.
and you know what the motherfucker is saying, as he points to me face and chases me down the street?
"china? ching chong? ching chong! you ching chong!!!"
after three years in south williamsburg i thought nothing the neighbors could do could surprise me anymore. but a HASID wearing a TWO FOOT AFRO just CHASED ME DOWN THE STREET screaming and pointing "CHING CHONG!"
i step off the J to the blaring of a party bus driving down Broadway-- a huge souped up luxury bus blasting jewish music with lights flashing inside. ok, fine.
i then turn the corner on Rodney, where the hasidic social club is. an SUV blaring music lurches into a parking spot, with one wheel up on the curb, and the driver, dressed as a pimp -- i kid you fucking not, cane, bright neon trench coat, the whole bit -- stumbles out and runs into the club. ok, fine.
and THEN, as i'm crossing in front of the car, the guy in the passenger seat, a young guy, stumbles out. he is dressed head to toe in prison stripes and wearing a 2-foot black afro. he is saying something to me. i ignore him, as i would any stupid drunk man at 5pm. he follows me, stumbling across the street and halfway up the block to Division, calling something to me, pointing his finger at my face, and for a moment looking seriously as if he's asking a question.
i turn down my ipod to listen. i mean, it's rare that hasidic men don't hug the wall or otherwise pretend i don't exist (except my landlord. he's honestly great), so why not engage this once? even though my neighbors won't shake my hand -- "oh. my husband doesn't shake hands with women" -- this kid clearly has something he wants to get off his chest.
and you know what the motherfucker is saying, as he points to me face and chases me down the street?
"china? ching chong? ching chong! you ching chong!!!"
after three years in south williamsburg i thought nothing the neighbors could do could surprise me anymore. but a HASID wearing a TWO FOOT AFRO just CHASED ME DOWN THE STREET screaming and pointing "CHING CHONG!"
posted by Amy S. Choi at 5:26 PM
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