Thursday, January 27, 2005
Morning Commute: Entry Three:
A strikingly beautiful tall girl slowly makes her way towards me. She has high cheek bones, smooth unblemished skin, thick lips, big brown eyes. She stands out in the pack of inner-city high school kids clamoring onto the bus - fake dis-colored hair extensions not withstanding.
She puts her hand on the support bar near me. A scrawny boy with almost identical hands places his hand above hers but touching. He's at least a foot smaller and the juxtaposition is funny. He gives her a look and he has the face of a natural comic. She starts to laugh. He teases her about a boy she's been talking to at school. "He's just a friend." He continues to make her laugh. He wears an earring, a fashionable shirt, a big furry jacket (humorously too big), a nice cap and immaculate white tennis shoes - particularly impressive since the streets are sludgey with melting snow. Just before my stop, he brings me into their conversation. He's just told her that he's not going to put up with any funny business (or something along those lines). He seeks my support. "You gotta do what you can." They laugh. I get off.
In the back of the train, somewhat obscured sits an Indian. His skin is dark. His hair straggley and he has thin patchy whiskers. He wears a fleece hoody decorated with Native American designs and Indian Chiefs in head dress, around him is a serape. Near end of journey, he packs his things into a blue bag. He gets off with me but goes directly to the inbound track and waits.