Page Twenty-One: The A Train Observer

I decided to walk the 20 blocks to Columbus Circle before I started my commute home. It was a pretty day and with sunshine being such a rarity I felt like it would be criminal to waste it underground right away.

The seat next to me was filled with the most precious 3-year-old, turning 4 on her burfday, with fluffy pigtails. She plopped herself down and started a conversation about my pants and 'why are your jeans ripped?' and 'why are you readin?' and 'you have red lipstick.' We were instant friends. Her mom tried picking her up to take her to her daddy and she screamed her best 3-year-old scream. So, she remained being my seat companion and my entertainment.

We turned the pages of my new My Subway Ride book. She loved it and my true identity became clear to me yet again when I realized that I actually spent money on that. We chatted the rest of our journey away like we were long lost friends.

I still feel like I'm 3 years old.

This morning when I walked down the stairs at the 178th St. stop, my ears were immediately drawn to the boy/man/somewhere in between rapping along to whatever was playing on his ipod. Something about how the bank can't hold all his money, blah blah blah. He was wearing a khaki pin-stripe suit with a paisly tie. As you know, I'm quick to judge an outfit. He did OK, though.

He tapped on my shoulder and asked me how to get to Wall St.

Later, during our ride we chatted about work and internships and making it to the top. He told me the top is lonely, so lonely there's an echo.

I told him that if that's the case than I don't want to be there.

He said it's the best place on earth.

Agree to disagree, I guess.

If I had to pick the mindset of one of my two subjects, I would definately pick the one who still believes in Santa and takes naps.

Until next time, A Train. See you on my way back to Dirty Jersey.