More on the Subway

I stood on the subway, on that long sad ride into work. As I did, I wondered what made me do this.

I didn’t have a car – didn’t want one in a city, because I believe in proper public transit. Proper public transit, of course, has an emphasis on the public, which makes so few public transits proper. But still, one must use it to make it viable for city expenditures.

In any case, as I stood there, standing next to a young fellow trying too hard to be cool in his too-large wool-and-dog-hair coat, smelling of body odour and cheap macchiato, I wondered to myself about the vagaries of more. The need for more. The want for more. I didn’t think this desire for more was good, leading as it did to a cramped subway and continued cuts. I was squished in beside Mr. Thinks-he-doesn’t-need-a-shower, and realized it was the having of more that allowed him that. Someone without would welcome the clean running water. But I digress.

More is not better. Just because everything is bigger in Texas – and a reminder here that elephants have larger brains, but who’s the dominant animal on the planet? – doesn’t mean Texas is better. Quality is better than quantity. A pithy, thoughtful remark is better than a two-hour speech.

The train came to stop, and I needed to escape. Mr. Stale Body was in my way, and I said “Excuse me” to try to get past him, but either he didn’t hear or, more likely, didn’t care to move. So after a second “Excuse me”, louder this time, I pushed past him. He gave me the stink eye, which I of course returned, as he was the one who was in the way, and was being a bit of a knob about it. I exited the train just in time, as the doors started to close. More and more people were climbing the stairs to the street every day, and I thought about this moreness as well. Every city is a city of strangers, but the more there are, the less there are.

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