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I Have A Gripe
February 5, 2036
Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. we here at OTM Radio proudly present the 25th annual rebroadcasting of the I Have a Gripe speech. Originally delivered a quarter century ago during the March on Washington Heights (after exiting a crowded New York City A Train in frustration) and consistently dismissed as the rantings of a deranged Ving Rhames look a like, I Have a Gripe eventually went on to energize the Personal Space Rights Movement for generations to come. The movement, as we all know championed the rights of all mass transit commuters at home and abroad. Let’s listen:
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of the New York City Transit system.
Friends, Romanians, Bush Men, Yard Men, Rude Boys, Guidos, Asians, Trini Massive, Indians, Europeans, Mis Hermanos, lend me your ears. It would be fatal for the city to overlook the urgency of this moment. It is with great humility that I request all personal space rights and liberties set forth by our fore conductors be adhered to during the morning and evening commutes of this great nation. The sweltering summers of this Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. For the past 437 years we have commuted on the New York City subway system a.k.a Coney Island for rats, and through countless racial behavioral observations, the following irrefutable, sweepingly generalizing stereotypes have caused me to voice my gripes. I HAVE A GRIPE!
I have a gripe that one day Blacks and Latinos will rescind their first amendment rights on all public trains, buses, trolleys, shuttle buses, Access a Rides, etc… No seriously. Cerrado la boca! Be quiet!! In addition to the deafening volume, it is the quality of content that ails me most, particularly the little black boys and little black girls. I have never seen so many, curse so much, with so little regard for the rest of us. Day in and out, the urban youngâns holler back and forth in attempts to shatter the land speed record for profanity between subway stops (I think I counted 30 f*cks, 15 b*tches , and at least 10 motherf*ckers between Hoyt Schermorhorn and Nostrand Ave). And I think I heard a “mothersh*tf*cker?” Is that even a curse?
I have a gripe that one day the train doors will open at the Canal Street station or any densely populated Asian part of New York and I will not be instantly reminded of a life and death game of musical chairs. I have seen footage of mass transit in Asian cities abroad. I realize the perceived real estate value of a seat on a train but I can assure you, that social behavior does not translate well in the states. I humbly request that you cease violently thrusting grandmothers onto the third rail to arrive at your desired seating destination. I also request that the Asian guys who sell AA batteries and DVD’s synchronize their travel times with my morning and evening commutes respectively.
I have a gripe and I swear to white Jesus, if my Caucasian & Indian brothers and sisters do not put that 24×60 inch billboard sized New York Times away during rush hour, I am going to roll the Sunday Times into a blunt instrument and induce subdural hematoma. Maybe thereâs a cure for that in the Tuesday science section but I request that you conduct your research in an area suited for a publication of that size⊠perhaps Yankee Stadium? Many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destination is tied up with our destination. And they have come to realize that their personal space is inextricably bound to our personal space. So please, PUT THAT STUPID HUGE NEWSPAPER AWAY DURING RUSH HOUR!!
“Word son? You just gonna open up that billboard and read it like ain’t nobody else on the train with you?
To my visiting Caucasian tourists, PUT THAT STUPID HUGE SUBWAY MAP AWAY DURING RUSH HOUR!! We donât even know where weâre going and we live here.
We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal. And in a city that often asks not what it can do for you but rather, what you can do for it, then takes from you and does what it wants anyway, there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm platforms which lead into the Gardens of Madison; In the process of gaining our rightful place on the train, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.
And when this happens, when we allow grandmothers to sit, curse words not to overpower our already deafening headphones, commuters to not stand .5 inches away from gigantic publications and subway maps, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s commuters, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, Muslims and Agnostics will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Seat at last! Seat at last, Thank God Almighty, there’s a Seat at last…. but now there’s a bum sleeping in it!
*Sidebar. It is only right that I commemorate our melting pot, the good Doctor Martin Luther the King Jr.’s efforts, and the achievements and progressions of all races with this rousing discourse. I am grateful that fun can be poked at our ethnic commuter idiosyncrasies without fear of repercussion. I can assure you all however that I will not be going to the mountaintop with any of “you people”. Not if public transportation is involved. With all due respect to Dr. King and Rosa Parks, you can have the back and front of the bus. Iâm taking a Cab!
Brother: Can a brother get a cab please (during the day time and provided the mountain top is not in Brooklyn?)
Cab Driver: YES WE CAN!!
Sidebar Complete.
Almost every year for the past 6 years and on the same day, Iâve posted the same pic of me in the hospital during my temporary and untimely demise in 2015. A few weeks after I was back to ânormalâ, I asked Eric âWhyâd you take the pics?â And he said, âI knew you would want to write about it if you lived.â Eric was right. Eric was often right and Eric always had my best interest at heart. I am going to miss my friend.
You ever meet someone and become friends immediately?! Well this was not the case with Eric. Before he was my manager at Morgan Stanley, I would often see this 6â4″, giant white guy walk up to the only black woman at work, say something then walk away without any hint of human emotion. Naturally I thought he was a jerk until I asked her âYo, is that dude bothering you?â She laughed and proceeded to tell me he was a great person, which I ultimately got to experience first hand. Little did I know this Italian from Staten Island was more Brooklyn than most Brooklynites.
Eric was not with the shits!! If there were ever someone who lived their life in direct, honest and no uncertain terms, that would be Eric. He would ask me questions at work like âWhy are the other consultants making more money than you?â I knew the answer to that question and so did he. Eric then proceeded to increase my salary by 15K. After arguing with all our managers that âYou need to hire Alfred!â, they eventually did 1 year prior to the 2015 incident. In the hospital, one of my friends asked me, âWhat if you didnât have health insurance when this happened?â I would be in debt for the rest of my life is the obvious answer. I still am in debt for the rest of my life but at least, it is to those who made sure I had a more enjoyable life and for that, I will gladly repay.
My mom loved to tell me the story of how she met Eric. After they told her I was going to be in the ICU for some time, she told the doctor âWell Iâm not going anywhere.â She then hears a voice from that back of the room that says âWell Iâm not going anywhere either!â That was Eric and in true form, he was at that hospital every single day until I was discharged.
Eric passed away in December 2021 of stage 4 cancer. After feeling faint on his way to my bbq, he went to get checked out and was diagnosed. During the past 5 years, Eric lost his mom, twin brother and dad. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like but I’m glad that pain he was feeling is no more.
From being my manager to my business partner, writer, book editor, artistic director, and most importantly, my friend, I am going to miss you MC Krispy E a.k.a âEnrique Pollazo!â And although you told me Enrique means Henry in Spanish and not Eric, it was too late!
Sidebar. The day I was discharged, while everyone was deciding what was best for me, no one had remembered that I would need clothes in order to leave the hospital. Eric shows up (unasked) with all the clothes I had on the day I coded, laundered and ready to go. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve friends like this but i need to keep doing it! Sidebar complete.
Rest in Peace Eric. âBe Good.â
I had the distinct pleasure of participating in a panel discussion on writing your first book, presented by the Harlem chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Inc. Alongside Jim St. Germain, Author – A Stone of Hope: A Memoir and Dr. Keneshia Nicole Grant, Author – The Great Migration and the Democratic Party: Black Voters and the Realignment of American Politics in the 20th Century.  We opined on pain points, benefits and strategies regarding our inaugural voyages into authorship. Feel free to watch for your self and I hope this provides some insight to all those looking to make the same voyage. Enjoy!
