Silence Please

I don’t know who started the rule that there is no noise on the subway during rush hour. Some days I am more grateful for it than others. Like this morning when the man across from me burst out laughing at the book he was reading (“Down” if you find it you get a prize because I can’t track it down). I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t already so quiet. People were staring him down like he had just committed a crime. He wiped the smirk off his face and continued solemnly reading.

On my way home I was standing with hand clasped around pole and falling asleep as usual, when the conductor announced the next stop and I could have sworn he was whispering right into my ear. It frightened me half to death. I jolted awake and looked around to see and hear the quiet around me. I hate awaking from a loud frightening occurrence only to find silence around me. It makes me feel a little false inside.

Sometimes I relish in it on the way home. Then some crazy comes in a ruins my meditation. The PATH is much more quiet than the MTA.

I used to think I’d miss the subway, but the idea of driving to the grocery store is squelching all my nostalgia. I’ve only got a week left and I don’t feel the need to get in before we go. I’m ready to get back to the west. My heart belongs in the slow suburbia way.

We’ll see if the Vegas lights live up to my expectations.