I have a friend who has a blog where he writes about funny things he sees on the public transportation around Boston. He has some pretty great stories, but I think this morning I have him beat.
My commute started the way my commute always does—I chose one of my three preferred seats, I sat for a stop or two in silence, I read a few chapters from the Book of Mormon (currently 2 Nephi 9–12), I sat for another stop or two in silence, I chose my music for the day (Simon and Garfunkel, very possibly followed by the soundtrack of (500) Days of Summer or my favorite Belle and Sebastian album or perhaps a little Death Cab for Cutie, because it’s going to be one of those days, you know?). I listened to Mrs. Robinson, The 59th Street Bridge Song, and The Sound of Silence before I noticed the girl two seats away.
She wore a blue plaid dress with a red cardigan and black flats. She pulled a plastic bag of what looked like pencil shavings out of her backpack, and it wasn’t until she opened it up and took out a package of cigarette paper that I knew what it was (because cigarette paper, as we all know, is used for much more than cleaning the moisture out from under the keys of your flute). I sat listening to I Am a Rock and then Scarborough Fair, watching this girl roll joints on the T on a Monday morning. I’d never seen anyone do that before. Neither, apparently, had the rather attractive young man in a suit sitting across from me—he looked at me and communicated utter disbelief with eye talking skill I’d never before seen in a man. It took Andy months to get it down, Thomas even longer, but this guy nailed it on his first attempt. And we didn’t even know each other before this morning. Impressive.
An unusual way to start the week. Perhaps tomorrow I'll meet a guy who brews his own beer.
Oh wait, I already know one.