He boarded the train a couple stops after I had.
The nearest open seat was between two commuters and in it he squeezed. Those on either side adjusted themselves accordingly. He was glossy eyed and unshaven. He wasn’t a commuter on his way to work though it appeared as if this may have been a fairly common routine. A green ball cap covered all but the fly-away gray curls that sprung forth around it’s circumference.
In his hand he carried two things. Carol O’Connell’s book Shell Game and a beer wrapped in the plastic bag. Shouldn’t it be wrapped in paper?
Click. Schuup. Tick. Then he raised the can to his mouth as foam encircled the opening and took the first sip. His hands shook as he placed it between his legs, securing it as he opened his book to a dog-eared page. From his pocket retrieved his reading glasses.
With the exception of the beer and his shaking hands, his actions were completely normal for this hour of the morning.
I changed trains at Belmont and boarded a Purple Line Express that was now making local stops through Old Town. At Sheffield serval more passengers boarded, including two women who, at first glance, fit the Lincoln Park Trixie look to a T. Yoga pants, t-back sports tops, running shoes with florescent soles, one with pink and the other with lime green, and each with an expensive bag over her shoulder.
Both women had their hair pulled back into pony tails, both wore large dark sunglasses, and both were carrying their Starbucks cups and somehow avoided smudging their sparkling lip gloss.
The two women were classic Lincoln Park Trixie, except for one thing – they were pushing fifty. It was their somewhat thick ankles that first caused me to give them a second look. They did not have bony hips nor did they have petite waists. I was standing close enough to them to see behind their sunglasses and it was apparent that they had had their eyes done.
Though the train was somewhat crowded, the two woman pranced playfully in place as they talked to one another. A little too made up and a bit larger than the others, their movements reminded me of full-sized poodles on short leashes who had just run into each other again this morning at the entrance to the dog park.
Urban In-Fill 