We deal in stereotypes and slurs here

Two weeks ago I remarked to N that we were having such an actual, pleasant spring. Generally NYC goes from drippy, lame March weather straight into 80 degrees and 100% humidity. This hasn't been the case this year, with pleasant temperatures in the high 60s and white, poofy clouds.

Naturally that all had to come to a crashing stop and now the weather, all rainy and sodden and cold, bites the wax tadpole. Things would be a lot fucking better if this weather would just fucking stop. I am shaking my fist angrily, impotently, at the sky.

So today on the subway the train cleared out enough at 28th Street for both N and me to get a seat. I noticed an origami paper crane, made from a sheet of looseleaf, lying on the bench. I am loath to touch anything on the train, but I picked it up anyhow, because it seemed a shame to smush such nice handiwork it under my ass.

N suggested I give it to the small child sitting with his mother two seats down from us.

"Why, just because he's Asian?" (He was, in fact, Japanese.) "I'm not giving it to him," I grumbled.

This mother and child had been the targets of a campaign of aggressive good will since they'd gotten on the train with us at Grand Central. Two people insisted on giving up their seats--No, please take the seat! Take it!--and she thanked them profusely. Then a largish man, noticing her having difficulty opening a Gatorade bottle (who drinks Gatorade at 9 am? Aside from me when I'm hungover?), actually leapt in a sprightly manner across the aisle, grabbed the bottle from her without asking, and twisted the cap off with his ham-hock-sized fingers. He presented the bottle to her with a flourish, as though he'd laid down his cape over a puddle. She thanked him profusely. I felt that offering the kid the crane would seem a bit odd at that point. And anyhow, I think kids are overindulged as it is.

We sat there awkwardly with the crane resting on N's bag. At 23rd St., the man sitting between me and the child got up, so I put the crane on the seat between us, kind of shoving it in his direction. He picked it up tentatively, eyeing me.

"Go ahead, you can have it," I replied.

For the third time in 19 blocks, the pair had to say thank you. He looked delighted. N smirked. "See? He likes it."

I don't think the woman knew the provenance of the crane. Supposedly people make the origami cranes in a last-ditch bid at health. I'm almost certain this crane has actually infected us all with TB.

Moving along. I got onto the elevator with two people from other floors (read: MORANS) who were discussing their weekend.

"I was so tired on Saturday. I just came home and decided to order some Chinese take-out. Too tired to cook."

"Yes," the other replied, "Make the Chinaman bring you food!"

Both laughed. I don't get it. I wait until there aren't strangers on the elevator before I use racial slurs.