Thursday, April 11, 2019
It’s a red MAGA hat day today, even though I was feeling a bit under the weather and not very feisty this morning. I started out wearing my blue MAGA hat but when I was waiting for the subway, a guy leaned over and whispered, “aren’t you afraid of being attacked?”
I replied, “No, my ancestors fought and died for this country; the least I can do is wear a MAGA hat. Besides, I’ve been wearing a MAGA hat every day for the past 80 days and I’m still here.”
His answer was, “Well, try wearing a red one. I don’t want to die.”
“But I have a red one with me,” I said while opening my shopping bag to show him. “And a brown one. I switch them around according to where I am.”
The train came and we boarded the same car, but separately. It never ceases to amaze me how so many New Yorkers have been intimidated and cowed by the leftwing zealots.
I gave him a smile and a wink as I got off the train at 23rd street, then quickly put on my red hat. As the train was pulling out, I made sure he would be able to see me, then gave him a salute as the train passed by.
Thanks, brother, for inspiring me to don my red MAGA hat. Safe travels to us both.
Later that day, after work, I wore my brown MAGA hat on the A train from Brooklyn into Manhattan. When the train stopped at West 4th Street, a smiling young guy wearing a blue jacket with red and white stripes on his sleeves sat next to me. I could sense that he wanted to say something. In a few seconds he turned to me and said, “I didn’t know there were any conservatives in New York.” I replied with a grin, “what makes you think I’m a conservative?” We both laughed out loud.
He said he didn’t know MAGA hats came in brown and asked where I got it. “Trump Tower,” I responded and listed the colors sold in the gift shops on the lower level. He said he had a camouflage MAGA hat that he got at a rally.
We chatted a while; he told me he was from Pennsylvania. “The land of bitter clingers,” I joked. He was too young to know what I was talking about, so I briefly explained the provenance of the phrase.
He asked if it was difficult being a conservative in New York. “Yes,” I replied emphatically, “it’s very difficult.”
He had to leave the train at 34th Street, so we shook hands and wished each other a hearty good night.
What a delight to have a random chat with a patriotic stranger, the way people do in Normal Land where people aren’t reluctant or afraid to talk to strangers, the way they are in New York City, especially on the subway.
I kept thinking about that young man and how refreshingly normal he was.
In retrospect, I realized that living in New York City has become much less difficult for me since I started wearing a MAGA hat. Why? Because I’ve encountered so many people who aren’t brainwashed, “progressive,” socialist, anti-American, Democrat lunatics.
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