Clare wants to meet before the benefit.  

            Joie et Tristesse at 7? It's near the venue.

            There are better places near the venue. And cheaper — she probably just liked the name. But they have half-off bottles of organic wine until seven, so if you get there early—

            And you will get there early, since you're already on the train. Since you're supposed to be covering the benefit, which is technically already about to start.

            But she's adamant: I really want some time just us.

            Someone walks in from the next car; the door slams behind them. You don't look up but you smell them. The car suddenly reeks like a port-o-john.

            The train stops and the doors open. The smell, along with the hot gust from the station, makes the whole train feel like a sewer. The doors close.

            You wrote an article once about how all Manhattan's sewage was dumped straight, untreated, into the Hudson until 1985. About the tired, poor, and huddled masses of shit floating freely, past Ellis, out…

            Or maybe she saw the foie gras? It's supposed to be a highlight. And cruelty free — this foie gras not from forcefully overstuffed ducks, the review says, but from a place in Spain where, when the ducks overstuff themselves for the flight south—

            Your ears pop: it’s the pressure from the train descending under the East River. The stinking man steadies himself against a pole, raises a hand, not like a beggar but like a preacher.

            I don't drink, he says. I don't bop. I don't do drugs.

            But how do they kill the ducks cruelty free?

            …can't get a job. Listen: it could happen to anyone. You all, I know it's embarrassing, but…

            When you guys getting here?

            Mike's already at the benefit. He feels bad for opening acts that have to play to big, empty rooms. And the venue—a converted gothic church—is probably especially stark when empty. Mike sells ad space for The New York Times, but the vague title on his new business cards often gets him backstage to talk with bands, to congratulate them on a good show; security is lax at these things. And Mike has one of those faces you just trust, which in his case is legitimate — he’s the kind of guy that goes to marches, donates to charities, volunteers in his free time. He files his taxes in February, and researches the impact of everything he buys, especially clothes, saying things like Clothes are a banner of what we value. And he's an Eagle Scout who, at the age of thirty-two, still cares about being an Eagle Scout. So he knows about banners, flags, badges. Things like that.

            …would really appreciate it. Know what I mean? Sir?

            The guy’s addressing the man sitting across from you, someone whose shoes could pay your rent. Whose watch is probably worth more than any vehicle you’ve ever been in. It takes gull to address an individual, way more than—

            Gull? As in seagull? No — it’s gotta be gall.      

            But it goes unrewarded.

            The doors open: Bedford Ave. You get out and join the line that forms at the stairs. When you come up, the buildings are shorter than in Manhattan. There's more air, bigger sky. Residents fork out at urgent speeds, speeds implying that they’re late, that something has gone awry. You loiter by the locked up bicycles, aligning your phone's GPS with the nearby stores.

            Someone stumbles out of the subway, and it looks at first like the stinking man, like maybe he’s followed you up. If he asks again, if he looks you in the eyes, do you give him the dollar? Do you give him more?

            But it’s just someone in a similar shirt — he smells fine as he pushes past, shooting you a look for shooting him a look.

            The bluegrass band is playing now. From Sweden. You're missing it, and you'll miss the next few bands as well. But Mike will catch you up on whatever you miss, and the articles CityHackr is looking for aren't about opening bands, they're about Brooklyn's Strangest Music Venues You Have to See, or Giving Back Glamorously: NYC's Best Philanthropic Events. Those, at least, are the ideas you pitched to get the tickets. […]

you can read the rest of #TheBenefit in the print-only edition of Permafrost Magazine, Vol. 43.1