I love the subway. It’s one of the most colorful parts of this city and the crazy temporal realities that it shuffles throughout constantly blow my mind. Every walk of life finds a spot on those trains and every temperament has its moment to shine.
It’s the perfect place to catch people mid-being; to watch people transition from the mental state the privacy of their home allows to the persona that comes with their daily interactions. It never ceases to amaze me.
As we peel the layers of our being and get closer and closer to the root of who we are, I wonder how deep to the core our subway self lays. Where does it fall on our personal state of being hierarchy? I wonder.
The other day I stood waiting for a train. Off to the side and unaware of my presence, stood an older woman very well put together. I’d guess in her late fifties or early sixties. Her coordinated heels and bag complemented her tailored clothing. Her lovely arranged hair topped a perfectly made-up face. She emitted that older, elegant kind of air that some effortlessly pull off.
And, she was rocking! With headphones in her ears, she was completely oblivious to the world around her. One hand danced with an invisible partner while the other kept time on her leg. She smiled away and sang silently; her mouth big and her eyes bright.
I have no idea what she danced to. Whatever it was, it looked like one helluva good time.
I watched her probably for a full two minutes before the train came. As the train zoomed in, I wavered back and forth on approaching her. A part of me desperately wanted to hear what she heard. Another part felt it indecent to interrupt her good time.
I wondered which aspect of her self I had witnessed. Where was she going? From where did she come? Was this her “regular” her? I suppose I’ll never know. I’m not sure it matters.
Soundtrack: Bruce Springsteen Greatest Hits
Lessons from Icarus 
Leave a comment