Man on the Train

It is still such a pleasure to be living in New York.  In the past week or so, I've had several errands throughout the city.  And that means reading on the train, walking through a new neighborhood, and seeing new people.  I dropped off a dress in the financial district, a backpack in SoHo, and visited Brooklyn to see the glorious cherry blossoms at the botanical gardens. 

Nearly every time I travel in this way,  I see a person that seems interesting in some way, or have a meaningful interaction.  

Today's goes to the man I sat next to on the train.  When I stepped on I noticed his black baseball cap, his camouflage oversized backpack, his tattoos, and the way he leaned forward in his seat.  Over the course of sitting next to him, he pulled out a bottle of a banana smoothie, something I had not put into the box I put him in.  And then a large book opened in his hands, one that was printed in such a way that made me think that the words were valuable in some way, not a cheap or quickly written book, something a little more hefty.  Again, my stereotype was poked through.  And then as I looked more closely, at the back of the book, I noticed that it was in German.  Suddenly it all made sense.  I was transported to Germany for the single stop that I had finally become aware.  Here was a piece of a country, that was practical, resourceful, tough, intellectual, fastidious.  

How wonderful to come so close to someone on the course of a commute.  So close to a culture that I've never visited.  To take in a small essence of something different than what I assume, and to be reminded of that.