Faces

It was another typical morning on the subway: I was standing on a crowded train, staring at the wall because there was no new ads to read or interesting headlines on people's newspapers to scan. As my train was making its way to the next stop, another train passed alongside mine, briefly dazzling my eyes with fresh material.

There in the next less crowded train, people were staring right back out at me, all with the same lifeless look in their eyes, sort of like zombies. Within a few seconds, they were gone; in one window, out the next. I wonder if they were thinking the same about me--Look at that girl with the expressionless face who looks like she would rather be sleeping.

I pass by so many faces everyday on the train. It's not like my old commute in California where I barely see the faces in cars; in NY, I can be stuck with the same faces for 40 minutes. I become drawn to these faces and make stories inside my head about them, like where they come from, what kind of jobs they have, what kind of place they go home to...partly because my mind runs wild, mainly because I'm bored.

On the way back home on the train in the evening, I was sitting down and a man in his sixties was standing in front of me. His belly, which made him look like he was nine months pregnant, was 12 inches away from my nose so I couldn't help but notice that he had to roll his pants to keep them from slipping off his belly. He probably can't find a belt that fits him. I felt bad for him because he was heaving when he was breathing. So what story did I make up about him? Poor guy probably can't exercise because he has asthma and people must bump into him (because that's what New Yorkers do) all the time because he walks slow, which makes him feel bad, and when he feels bad, he eats so he gets even bigger and even slower. What a vicious cycle.

I also saw a 3 year old boy in a stroller. I usually think kids are cute but when I saw this boy, I made a face that I hope his dad didn't see. My face was expressing my mind: "Damn, that boy is so pale and his head is orange--he's going to have a hard time picking up chicks when he gets older." Then I looked at his dad and blamed him for his son looking the way he did.

Yes, I'm judgmental and I stereotype...but for the most part, I keep it inside my head. You just have the honor of getting a peek of what goes on in this genius head of mine ;)