putting the j in jjosh

I was on the subway, sitting down, listening to music on my headphones. I’ve got this new thing I’m doing where I wear my sunglasses on the subway, you know? I hate the feeling of them up on top of my head, and I think people who wear them like that look like idiots. I won’t hang them in the v-neck of my shirt, and I won’t wear them backwards on the back on my neck. The people who wear their sunglasses while on the subway always look kind of cool, so I decided to do it too.

It feels great, and since a portion of my commute goes topside, I feel justified. And, let’s admit it, it is a bit pretentious. But still. Who cares. This is New York.

So I’m sitting down, and across from me are a couple of kids, a girl who’s maybe 13 and a young boy of about 9 or 10. And they’re some kind of orthodox Jews, though I can’t be sure which kind. The girl’s wearing her hair up, and a black dress with some kind of white trim around it, and the boy has on a yarmulka and black slacks and a black shirt. He’s also wearing these weird small loafers, made for 10 year-old feet, and they look uncomfortable. He’s sitting on the subway, his feet dangling above the floor, and he’s got a plastic bag sitting on his lap that I assume is his lunch. Through the white plastic I can make out shapes and colors that suggest some kind of apple, a box drink, some bright rectangles, maybe candy bars.

The boy and his sister are talking to each other, but I can’t hear them because I’ve got my music going. But I watch their lips, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t speaking English. Hebrew maybe? Probably. The boy looks full of vim and life, taking the world in with big curious eyes. The girl looks tired and bored, and like she wishes she was somewhere else. Probably away from her brother. Maybe in different clothes. I’m projecting here.

The boy sort of smiles to himself as he takes a look into his plastic bag. He pulls out a bright blue candy bar (yes! I was right!) and looks up at his sister. Again, I can’t hear him, but it’s pretty clear he’s asking his sister if he can have his candy bar now. It’s also pretty clear that she knows he’s supposed to wait. And he knows this too. But you know what? She just doesn’t care. She says something to the effect of "go for it" and the kid grins broadly.

It’s about 9:30am, and this kid is gonna devour this candy bar. "Kids," I think to myself. And he’s loving it too, going all Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on it — opening the wrapper slowly, looking at the bar, finally biting into it. And wow, it does look good. It’s some kind of candy bar I’ve never seen before, it’s in sections, but the they’re thick, unlike a Hershey’s bar. When the kid bites into it, I can see each section is filled with a different color chocolate, but no caramel or nuts or anything like that.

It looks damn delicious.

I decide I’m going to figure out what this bar is, maybe get myself one at some point, maybe in the afternoon. And I’m still safe behind my sunglasses, so I feel I can study whatever I want to. I stare at the wrapper of the bar, which is wrapped around his hand from being peeled off the bar. All I can make out of the candy bar’s name is "god". I’m not kidding. There are more letters on there, I can tell, but the only ones I can read are white flowing serif-y font letters spelling "god". What the hell is this? Did the kid’s mom give him some kind of religious god-bar? I’ll bet you can buy them. But what are the odds that it would look like an actual, tasty candy bar? Usually if you made something and called it god-bar, you wouldn’t have to worry about quality because it would sell on name alone. But this looks like an actual, high-quality candy bar.

And the kid keeps going. There’s something odd about this kid eating candy for breakfast, eating on the subway, eating his god-bar. And it looks more and more delicious. The way he’s holding it, I think I can maybe make out the next letter, an "o". But I can’t be sure. My mind starts racing. What normal words do I know that might start "godo"? I can’t think of one. Normally I love this kind of game — anagrams and word puzzles and the like — but this one is killing me. And my stop is coming up soon.

The kid just doesn’t move his hand! Surely at some point he’s going to get to the end of the bar, and have to shift his grasp on it to be able to eat the final segment. His other hand is still holding on to the rest of his plastic-bagged lunch, so there isn’t much hope of a hand change, but he’s gotta do something soon, right?

My stop is the next one. He’s down to the last segment, and yes, he shifts his hand! But it’s to another obscured position. Damn. The train starts slowing down. In desperation I hit upon this crazy plan where I’ll wait until he finishes and then, right before I get off the train, I’ll go up to him and offer to throw away his candy bar wrapper. I’ll say something innocuous like "Hey kid, don’t worry, I’ll throw that away for you."  But won’t I look like a madman? All sunglasses and headphones and offering to throw some kid’s candy bar wrapper away? Couldn’t they arrest me for that? But no, I’m not breaking any laws. in fact, I’m offering to dispose of some litter, which is kind of a good samaritan move! And anyway, even if it is crazy, aren’t the New York subways full of crazy people? I’ll just melt into the crowd…

He finishes, crumpling the god-o-bar wrapper into his hand. The train comes to a stop.

I can’t do it. It’s too weird. And I don’t care that much, do I? I get off the train, taking a last look back at the kid through the now-closed doors. The train begins to pull away.

And I see the kid let the wrapper fall from his hand onto the floor of the train.

Involuntarily my mouth opens and I say "Oh!" I grin and the train is gone in a streak of electric rails and sound, pulling off, pulling away, going further up 7th Avenue to make more stops, to let off the little Jewish boy who crumpled up god, leaving it on the floor. God that I was willing to pick up.

Oh, who’m I kidding, that wasn’t god, it was god-o.