Tagging the Stonewall

Tuesday nights are typically boring.
Standing in a crowded subway car I watched as a local vandal tagged his name in unreadable charters on the door of the subway car. This upset me, but he put his pen away, so I said nothing.
Then he took out the pen again, possible to do a touch up job on the door. I debated whether I should say something or not. I looked him up and down. He was a big guy, much larger than I. Just look at the size those hands. I’ll bet he could clobber me if he wanted to. Wait, that pen is on the door again. “Stop drawing on the door. Go do that on your bedroom wall,” I burst out. Embarrassed he quickly pushed the pen into his pocket and looked straight at the door. Hmmm that was easy, maybe too easy.

Seconds later the shock of public embarrassment wore off and he started looking around the train trying to discern who had chastised him. Though I could have remained anonymous I took off my sunglasses and looked him right in the eye. Our eyes met, he looked away. I put my sunglasses back on.
He looked back at me again. I took off my sunglasses once more and looked him deep in the eye; never waving for a moment. The adrenalin started pumping through my increasingly beating heart. The tagger looked away again, but I continued to stonewall him; this was all about intimidation now.
Finally he mustered up the courage and spoke. “I do draw on my bedroom wall. It’s a sickness man.” I shook my head and said, “Do that somewhere where people want to look at it.” As the subway door opened he retorted, “Oh you must not be from around here,” and then quickly stepped out of the car. I was glad to see him go, but wait this was my stop as well. What should I do? Hell I am not messing up my commute over this.

I stepped out of the car as the doors shut and walked towards the stairs. The tagger was almost to the top and looked over his shoulder to find me behind him looking right at him. Blessedly by the time I reached the top of the stairs the tagger was out of sight and I never saw him again.
By an amusing coincidence my Tuesday unexpectedly ended at the Stonewall Inn eating stale popcorn.