While riding the subway the other day, I was seated next to a young girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, and her father. “Twenty-eighth Street is next. And then 23rd. And then 18th,” she told me. Apparently, even she could tell I wasn’t a New Yorker.
Then, as the train came to a stop at the station (sure enough, 28th Street), her attention was drawn to a gay couple who boarded holding hands. She quieted.
“Do those men love each other?” she asked her father.
This could be interesting.
As I held my breath waiting for him to answer, I saw her eyes widen as she excitedly blurted out, “Like on Glee?!’”