The cold air of an autumn's night claps me on the back like an old friend as I climb out of the earth from the subway.
As I'm about to round the corner, a flash of color and movement catches my eye from the street, and I turn to see a man, a Jewish man from his black orthodox-approved hat, to his white shirt, to the tzitzis hanging out over his black pants, riding on an electric scooter, much like the one I own. Strapped to the front of his scooter is a flag pole, and from this flag pole, streaming out behind him like he's going into battle, is a giant yellow flag, at least six feet long and four feet high, covered by a picture of crown surmounted by the word "MOSIACH" in all-caps.
He weaves in and out of traffic, nonchalant and triumphant, until he disappears up Flatbush and into the night.
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