adolescent fears

last night as i was headed home from work on the subway, i was faced with one of my worst fears of raising children in the city (and perhaps raising children anywhere). at 66th street two punk-ish-looking teen girls got onto the train (and by "punk-ish" i mean black clothes and messy hair, still young enough for their parents to forbid multiple piercings and blue hair). it was immediately clear that one of them was blasted on something. she was propped up against the subway door languidly, and her friend was repeatedly righting her so that she wouldn't slide into the woman in the seat next to the door. i could see the concern reflected in the woman's eyes... the thought, "that's someone's daughter," go through her head as it went through mine. it was actually not as bad as it could have been because she had a friend... someone to make sure that she got home okay... that she didn't get taken advantage of or end up alone on a train in coney island.

while i love the idea of having children, i fear the day that i have an adolescent daughter. that fear is multiplied when i see all of the experiences that the city has to offer anyone old enough to figure out the subway system. at least in the burbs you can control access to transportation... kids can only go so far without a license and a car. in the city, you can go from riverdale to coney island on pocket change. maybe by the time i have teens, they'll come with tracking devices...