Overheard on the Houston Street platform, a woman on the phone, walking through the turnstile and past me:
“You’re not funny. You’re not funny. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Lemme tell you something. You’re not funny. You’re not funny. You’re not funny. You’re not funny.”
And on and on into the distance.