I was waiting at a street crossing at 231st Street in the Bronx the other day with my hands over my ears while a couple fire engines with screaming sirens drove

I was waiting at a street crossing at 231st Street in the Bronx the other day with my hands over my ears while a couple fire engines with screaming sirens drove by. After they passed a girl waiting to cross the street looked at me and said: “I was born and raised in Brooklyn, and the sirens, they’re music to my ears!” Another time the metro wasn’t running and we needed to take the free shuttle bus instead. We sat near a large woman next to a small boy and listened. > Whatchyou talkin’ ‘bout the end o’ the world’? It be just a storm, not the end o’ the world! Who been givin’ you ideas ‘bout the a-po-ca-lypse anyway?! You wake up in the morning (snap) — happy. You go outside for a walk (snap) — happy. That’s how it’s done, son! There be no time for bein’ pessi-mistic! Look at me! I still have some years in me and I don’t have time fo’ dis shit! (loud joyous laughter)