Or go home. Or just walk the streets. I'm going to a beach in Brooklyn. Descending to the Q train platform, faces change. Upstairs people are younger, whiter, faster.
Tourists head to the heart of Greenwich Village.
Down on the Q platform, languages also mix. But these are not foreigners. The train pulls in. I get on and pack myself in between a Chinese woman and a sleeping drunk. He's chalky white, with flushed cheeks, white hair, and a gut spilling over his pants.