The intersection of Broadway and Myrtle has always got action. As a Bushwick neighborhood this is to be expected however this intersection spread out under the J M Z tracks is always lively, I see it night and day and at asinine hours of morning as I sometimes head to work at 3:00am. Right now it is 12:37 on a Monday.
A train passes overhead. The mammoth beast rumbles violently into the station directly above me. It comes to a mind piercing screeching halt and then releases its locomotive energy with a sudden exhaustive burst of air. Metal tongs clank away at the empanada stand next to me and its two stout operators converse in Spanish. Their pitched voices racing with excitement.
A steady stream of people descend and ascend the stairs up to the train and their footsteps sound like hundreds of heavy rain drops slapping the sidewalk. The chatter of the street crowd (numbering at least three or four dozen people) blend together in a tornado of broken discourse: “Yeah…Hahah….I told you… Sheeeeit… Oh hey!... Byeee…” There is a radio playing Parliament Funkadelics, “P- Funk” at a vendor on the corner selling hats, sunglasses, t-shirts, more hats, umbrellas…etc.
From inside the 24 hour deli on the corner I can hear the sizzle of something on a grill whenever it gets quiet enough. Babies cry from strollers passing by and their shrill is drowned out by the recurring, always irritating shriek of a train grinding along tracks. The train stops, exhales, and says, “This is Myrtle avenue,” in its halted voice trying to mimic an actual human being, “The next stop is Central avenue”. This is followed by the onrush of footsteps and countless voices creating a euphonious mosaic of personas sounding along the sidewalk.
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