Riding the Q train

Hello Brooklyn, Happy Sunday! Hopefully you are finding creative ways to beat the summer heat!

As many of you may or may not know, I live in the Kensington section of Brooklyn, and therefore, I ride the Q and F trains rather frequently. If you happen to be a New York City strap-hanger like myself then you know that once you board one of the MTA's 24 subway lines, that you can sit back, relax, and prepare to be entertained. On any given day, you can ride the New York City subway and meet the next American Idol, ABDC contenstants, televangelist/prophet/soothsayer...the list goes on and on. The subway is a place for people to find their niche and share their talent (or lack thereof in many cases).

And sometimes- about 3pm this afternoon while riding a Coney Island bound Q train, to be exact- you just overhear (without eavesdropping) the little asinine conversations that take place between friends and family members.

WARNING: The following conversation took place amongst 3 generations of a family (grandmother, mother, and 17-20 yr. old grandson).

Mother: (talking to grandmother) He is losing his scholarship because he failed two classes.

Grandmother: Yeah, that's right. You said that he failed Chinese.

Grandmother: (to grandson) Why did you take Chinese anyway?

Grandson: Because I always wanted to go to Tokyo.

Grandmother and Mother: deafening silence...


WTF?! LOSING HIS SCHOLARSHIP!! HOW DID HE GET A SCHOLARSHIP?? SMH!!!