Follow the leader

The train lurched to a stop somewhere in Queens at a station I’d never heard of: Kurtz-Marleybone Avenue.

I could just make out in the scratchy announcement that the train was going out of service. Sighing “K” train regulars straggled up the stairs for alternative forms of transportation. I walked past bright orange webbing, following hand-scripted arrows around piles of plywood. If I’m ever able to square away my work on the con men, my next project won’t be suicide clusters, the mass hysteria of undergraduates, but instead will have to do with the way people in the urban environment will blindly follow any disruption in their path, as long as they’re given a semi-legitimate reason to. Duck under this scaffolding, don’t worry, climbing these cinderblocks will only take a minute, just sidestep these piles of broken wood and we’ll have you on your way. We will dutifully weave, crouch and stumble along, as long as arrows mark our passage forward.

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