He’s As Phony As A Three-Dollar Bill

(I’m a white female in my early thirties. I’m on the subway, headed home. At one stop, a young black man, around eighteen or nineteen, gets on. He comes up to me, and while he doesn’t get too close, he does loom over me a bit.)

Teenager: “Excuse me, ma’am. I don’t mean to be rude, and I hope you’re having a nice day, but can you spare a dollar?”

(I don’t give out money to strangers.)

Me: “No.”

Teenager: “Hold up now. I’m not trying to hurt you; no need to be rude. I just want to ask you…”

Me: “No.”

(He then does a one-eighty.)

Teenager: “Man, f*** you, d*** white b**** c***! All’s I want is a d*** dollar!”

(He then walked towards the other end of the car, past all the other people sitting and standing, pulled out his phone, and started playing on it before getting off at the next stop. I guess he didn’t need that dollar after all.)

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