I was (of course it was) in NYC at the time, riding on the R train and this burly, tall, leather and black jeans with fuck off huge steel-plated knee-highs and a fourteen foot lime green mohawk gets on the train and sit’s down, his jansport backpack making this Ghu-awful THUNK as he sets it between his feet. And no one says anything. Everyone saw him because how could you not?
And he opens his bag and starts rustling through it and sets aside some YA novel that I don’t remember but that it had this absolutely lovely lavender purple cover. and then he pulls out his fucking knitting and just goes to town. Just, minding his own business, knitting away intently, listening to his earbuds.
And wasn’t a person on that train gonna say a DAMN thing about it. No one pointed or made any comments because this dude was built to crush motherfuckers. And he was knitting in public so you know he knew no fear and was happy and confident and then this little girl walked away from her mum and walked straight up to him and waved and her mother looked surprised (but not scared, this is NYC - we don’t know fear because we’re too busy). But the guy sees this little girl wave at him and just gives her the BIGGEST SMILE and waves back and takes out an earbud and says hi and they start talking about knitting and how he learned on his own and she wanted to learn and her mother didn’t know. But he suggested that there were knitting clubs and a lot of them were free and would happily help a new little knitter like her.
It was the single most adorable and heart warming thing of my life. Like here’s this dude with a Rancid t-shirt that looks like it was probably printed in someone’s flat fifteen years ago with an anti-nazi patch right over his heart and enough metal in his clothes to be worth recycling but a little girl waved and what type of nasty, heartless fuck doesn’t smile at kids? That ain’t punk.