PATH train from Exchange Place to Newark

A gaggle of young homeys got on the train, five of them black and one with a jewfro who wanted to be. They had different styles, one with dreads, one a bling wannabe, lots of retro Nikes. They stood around and talked and shrieked and cackled the whole way to Newark, niggah this and bitch that, a very interesting ritual of communal utterance where each competed to make the next crack, and the noise never once died back. It was a classic pack performance: "We don't care what you (anyone else) think."

Across from me was a guy who would once have been called a Cosby, 35ish black investment banker type in khakis and dress shirt. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, or looked at his Blackberry. Down at the other end of the car, however, were older black people, who were visibly displeased with all the n-words and whatnot.