Henry Culvyhouse: Henry C's Down Home Dispatch: The Big Apple

Henry Culvyhouse, The Daily Independent, Ashland, Ky.
·2 min read

Jun. 5—NEW YORK, New. — The first time I ever went to New York City, a man in an Iron Maiden T-shirt farted on my friend Michelle.

We were in the subway in the city, having ridden the New Jersey Transit over from Hoboken. Looking at the map with the yellow, orange, red and blue lines, all the streets and what have you, we had no clue where we were nor where we were heading.

Hell, I couldn't even tell you where Times Square was.

I was 18, wearing skinny jeans and a jacket from Forever 21, trying to use this trip with my friends Michelle and Josh as a ploy to win back a girl who'd broken up with me the week prior, but still wanted to go on the trip to "the city that never sleeps."

My buddy Josh was trying to be a comedian, trying to break into the New York scene. It was a "bringer show," which means you only get stage time if you bring so many folks to the venue to guzzle over-priced drinks and reheated TGIF appetizers at a 500% markup.

He had everybody lined up, but like most bringer shows — everyone dipped out at the last minute.

It was a little before noon and we were hungry — we hadn't eaten a crumb since leaving Inwood, West Virginia. Their stomachs were grumbling, but I'd been smoking cigarettes and eating trucker speed, because I was 18 and I didn't believe that was a problem.

"Where do we eat? Where do we go?" we asked amongst ourselves.

Then a man, with cut-off jean shorts and a tattered Iron Maiden shirt approached us. He pointed to an intersection on the map and proceeded to tell us there was a pretty good diner there with cheap food.

"You can even smoke crack in the bathroom," he said.

My friend Michelle started laughing, then we all started laughing.

"You think I'm funny, you think I'm funny?" he said.

Then he raised his leg and farted on Michelle — it sounded like ripped denim.

"I'm for real," he shouted, as a subway car opened behind him on the platform. "I'm for real."

He backed onto the car, the doors shut and that was the last we saw of him.

"What just happened?" Michelle asked me, Josh and my ex.

"I think he farted," one of us said.

Then we laughed and walked up the stairs out of the station into the city.

The buildings were tall, the tallest I'd ever seen.

I looked up in awe.

We got caught in rain storms that day, the show was a bust and we didn't get home until sunrise. I didn't get the lady back, but I'll never forget that fart in the subway station.

HENRY CULVYHOUSE can be reached at henry@dailyindependent.com