His buddy gets on a few stops later, slumps down beside him. The second guy is older, lighter haired, thicker around the middle. He complains about his hand, which was broken in a fight. Everything on his body hurts these days. (Funny, he doesn't look like the kind of guy who gets into brawls – he seems too laid back.)
“You got to go to the pain clinic. They'll set you up,” Cellphone Guy says.
Fighting Guy isn't so sure. “I just take tylenol,” he says.
“They gave me a scrip for Oxycontin for my back,” says Cellphone Guy. “I tell them my back still hurts, they refill it.”
Fighting Guy seems impressed. “Didn't know your back was that bad.”
“It ain't. I take advil and sell the Oxycontin. It pays my cable bill, and I get the Platinum package with On Demand.”
Now there's a man with modest ambitions. No “get rich or die tryin'” for him. He's satisfied with his HBO, pay-per-view boxing, and digital porn.