t 9 a.m. on July 3, 2003, Doug Bruce woke up on the F train near Coney Island. He had no idea who or where he was. There was a swimsuit in his knapsack, but it was cool and rainy out. He knew what cars were, but he could not identify specific hood ornaments; he could sign his name—a left-handed scrawl—but he was able to decipher only the “D.” His scalp was covered with bumps and cuts, and he had a pounding headache. Two days later, recalling that morning, he wrote, “I go to a shop and buy some water. I’m cold and wet. I’m afraid I have committed a crime.”
Doug's story has been documented in a movie, Unknown White Male
, which opens in at least some cities this Friday. I'll be seeing it if and when it comes to the 'Boro.