Hipster Douchebags

Tonight, like many nights, I waited at the very back of the platform for the N and R trains, along with a crowd of hipsters. Mark calls them 'hipster douchebags'.

This happens every day - people know exactly where to stand on the platform so when the doors open, they're right by the stairs or the exit. All those hipsters (and I) were waiting for the last car of the train, so we could get out at Union Square and dash down the stairs to the L train. There, we'd all assemble again, on one end of the Brooklyn-bound platform, to squeeze into the last car. We'd stumble out at Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg and trudge up the stairs to the open air.

I wish I'd had my camera tonight, because it was raining. On the platform, and later on the trains, I was crammed together with a mass of damp, bed-headed folk dressed in saggy jeans and slouchy hooded sweatshirts. Mark hates them, (hence the 'douchebag' part).

Everyone (except me) looked like they just walked out of a Gap ad. That's the Williamsburg demographic, and tonight, they looked especially bed-headed.

Next time I'll have to bring the camera. Hopefully, it'll be raining.


Image from a review of The Hipster Handbook.