More than anything else New York is a city of superlatives, a place where the best, the brightest, the biggest is the norm.
~ Marilyn J. Appleberg
Male nudity on the streets of New York City is a pretty common thing, of course that nudity is hardly relegated to above ground activities, there are plenty of peckers floppin around on the trains and platforms of Gotham’s subway system as well.
Take for example this gentleman here who decided to strip down, do a little breakdancing and run through a car full of disgusted D train riders.
For those not “in the know” the D train is among the MTA’s worst subway lines. It runs from the Bronx, through Harlem, past West 4th Street, and all the way out into Brooklyn so it touches a little piece of the city’s biggest shithead hangout spots (venture near the West 4th Street subway entrance on a Saturday afternoon and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about). With that in mind a naked vagrant running through a crowd of commuters isn’t exactly breaking news — guys literally masturbate on these trains every day, and more power to them because as the timeless Sinatra song goes, “if you can get a serviceable erection on a crowded train here, you can get one anywhere.”
Anywhooo guys like this one are just a part of life in New York. The sidewalk outside of the Port Authority seems to be among their preferred stomping grounds, but homeless penis can be see throughout the 5 boros. I for one will never forget walking down 42nd Street one morning and crossing paths, quite literally, with a naked man who was lying perpendicularly across the sidewalk with his genitals tucked back between his thighs.
From time to time these guys do engage in violent criminal behavior, but mostly they just kind of stumble around like zombies, or defecate all over themselves — as was the case with a gentleman I saw on 47th Street whose lower body was wrapped in a piece of discarded carpet, and whose ankles were caked in feces (a pair of pants, presumably his, sat several feet away, a large pile of feces nesting in the seat). Most are so weakened by decades of substance abuse that they’d struggle to best even the most nebbish of New Yorkers if things came to blows, but their ability to transmit hepatitis with the scratch of a fingernail or a bite on the arm makes them a formidable presence nonetheless.
Getting within arm’s reach of these guys is enough to make your flesh crawl, and most people will head for the other side of the street if they see one moseying down the block, so his sprint through a packed subway car probably had most of these people wishing they’d been shoved in front of the train instead of riding it. It’s bad enough that you’re crammed inside of a lumbering tin can, on your way to a job you don’t like, so you can afford rent on an overpriced, undersized apartment that you share with a roommate you can’t stand, because TV and movies have convinced you that living in New York CIty is a good idea. Now, you have to go perform said shitty job with the putrid stank of homeless dick all over your Lululemons. It’s enough to make a straphanger pine for the halcyon days of April 2020, when the only penis you’d come across during the work day was the one being whipped out by the guy on your sales team who forgot to shutoff his webcam while masturbating his way through a zoom meeting.