Old Man and the Subway Seat
We were leaving the 28th Street station when he sat down to my left. Not that I usually pay attention to seat occupation; other than being cognizant of a physical presence, I don’t much notice my subway neighbors. But I could tell this man was older by the arthritic manner in which he wrestled to open his bag, his right elbow jolting into the territory I would ordinarily consider my “personal space.”
I continued to calendar as he fumbled with the flap, then the latch, finally reaching the inner treasures of his bag. As our space overlapped, my thoughts meandered from my day planning to his monumental effort to retrieve a simple object. How will it feel to combat the ever-quickening pace of the world with motor skills that betray and shut down?
His shaking hands again caught my attention as they emerged from the bag with a softbound book dressed in a worn, plain black cover. I was curious whether the built-in tassel marked a page of belabored journal entries, or a page of his readings, now out-of-print. Either way, I was proud of my neighbor for trying to stay sharp in this “boat against the current” era of technology and progress. I rather anxiously watched him open the book. It contained no pages at all, but an Amazon Kindle. I vacated my seat at the next stop, properly schooled, paper day planner still in hand.
April 27th, 2009 at 12:04 am
Wow. What an interesting observation. I love the way you write, have you considered writing a book of just random NYC observations. A short story compilations of sorts. There is a never-ending barrage of material to be had on the subways alone.