The Big Sleep continue their week of guest blogging here at Product Shop NYC. Their new album, Sleep Forever, was officially released yesterday and we went out and bought our copy. It's amazing and you should really go and get it. You should also check The Big Sleep out when they go on tour this March and April, playing shows with Say Hi, Les Savy Fav and Parts & Labor, amongst others.
The Big Sleep's Gabriel Rhodes checks in........
A couple of pints and biking don't mix. Especially at night. Especially when a lady decides to walk in front of your bike and you slam on the brakes to avoid her and in the process you break your elbow, thumb and wrist.
I've spent the past two weeks in every doctor's office in town. It used to be when you broke a bone it was sort of an emergency situation. Nowadays, they want to run two sets of MRI's, x-rays and meetings with the physical therapist. So after two weeks you're still having your broken, un-casted arm jostled on the subway and it gets a little...nerve-wracking. During those two weeks I was also taking a lot of vicodin. So I was floating around in a nervous, cautious haze.
Towards the end of this process I was leaving the hospital on 59th and 10th Ave. It was a nice sunny day and loads of people were milling about outside of the John Jay College. I was on the south side of the street, minding my own business, when I hear a person yelling: "Stop following me!!!"
Naturally, I turn to look. Across the street was a middle-aged guy in a beige overcoat screaming at a younger man who was cautiously standing about 20 feet behind him. His screaming was loud enough to draw everyone's attention.
"Stop following me!! Leave me alone!". They stood facing each other, holding their ground. The follower was not going to back down. He just stared at the followee - actually, he sort of glared at him with disgust and contempt.
The followee turned and kept walking. I decided that this warranted some following of my own, so I redirected myself and followed the both of them. Remember: vicodin haze.
After about 20 steps, the followee wheels around and unleashes another barrage. "Stop following me!!! Leave me alone!!! WHY are you following me?!!!"
Suddenly, this had gotten a lot more interesting. "Stop following me" implies that you know WHY someone is following you. You just want them to stop. "WHY are you following me" raises the stakes to Hitchcockian proportions. Who is this guy who's doing the following? Where did they meet? Does one owe the other money? Are they involved romantically?
The follower was a sort of ordinary Joe. He could have been a plumber. Or worked in a store. Maybe even an MTA employee or something. The followee was kind of debonaire. A little effeminate. Dressed kinda like Capote. If these two knew each other, it would have been under some interesting circumstances.
"WHY....ARE....YOU...FOLLOWING....MEEEEE????!!!!" Without warning, the followee lunged at the follower, full-speed and hit him right in the face. I've never seen anyone get punched in the face before on a public street like that. It was strange. For one, it made no sound. I've seen too many movies. I assumed it would make a "spshh" sound. But it was just silent. Also, no one stopped when he did it except for one lady who turned around and yelled something like, "Stop it!". But otherwise, everyone just walked by these two, ignoring them, like they were lovers locked in a kiss.
The follower didn't flinch. He just stood there and took it. Square in the face. How can someone go to hit you and you don't react AT ALL? It was like he was dead on the inside. The followee stepped back after hitting him and looked at him for a second. If this had been a James Bond movie, this was the moment when Bond hits Jaws and Jaws acts like he enjoyed being hit. And Bond knows he's in deep shit.
The followee turned and almost ran but then thought better of it and continued to walk as though he WEREN'T in a panic. As soon as he started to walk, the followee was in lock-step with him again, 20 feet behind. This follower had followed before. He had skills. There wasn't a bit of hesitancy in his motions.
The followee stopped, turned and lunged at him AGAIN! But this time he stopped short of hitting the guy. He wanted to scare him off. But the dead man just stared, as if to say, "Bring it on. Your anger makes me stronger."
So the followee did what most people would do. He reached for his cell phone and called the police. And crossed the street. This has been my reaction when I feel threatened in NYC. Cross the street. I think the logic goes: OK. This guy is crazy enough to follow me around the city and to take a punch to the face like a stiff in the morgue, but there's no WAY he would follow me across the street.
And it worked. He didn't follow him. I had been watching all of this from across the street so now the followee was coming my way. He passed right in front of me, cell phone to his ear, and as he passed I started to follow him.
Now the follower was following the followee AND me, the newbie follower, from across the street. We reached the corner. And with a glare, the follower turned and walked away. The game was over. I stood behind the followee for a moment, perplexed. Had the follower seen me? Did he decide that he had been replaced? Did I want to follow this guy now?
I looked at his face. He was scared. He still held his cell phone pressed to his ear and he was looking up the street, presumably for an arriving cop car. I looked down at my arm. The vicodin was wearing off and I was starting to feel some pain. I pulled the sling closer to my body, under my coat, turned and walked away. Back to the subway.
- Gabriel Rhodes, The Big Sleep
