So I'm taking the F train back to Brooklyn and this scruffy guy, clearly sporting a blood alcohol level of about a hundred and six, is warbling drinking songs at the top of his lungs. A couple stops later another scruffy guy gets on. He turns to my side of the train.
Someone has a pen.
I'm tryin' a' make you a serious offer, an' you pull this mickey-mouse shit. Get some paper. The panhandler gets some paper, Delfy gives him the numbers, and then they hug for a long while. Eventually the panhandler decides it's time to leave. He gets off at York Street.