relentless percussive monotonous pitter patter resounding throughout the day, like a finger of a small child repeatedly jabbing into the fleshy part of your shoulder to get your attention. this is that nagging feeling of something on your mind.
making a checklist, regarding it throughout the workday, then getting ready to tackle it upon leaving for the night. making plans, making moves, making your mark. elevator, lobby, street, sidewalk, crosswalk, stairs, subway, platform, train.
you are almost there and everything is fresh on your mind for getting it done. then, out of nowhere, a man is fiddling with his phone which seems to be connected to a hidden boombox in his bag.
you want to say something, and although you don't see anything, you hear it all. horrible pop music blaring and crackling from an origin unconfirmed. the man, old enough to know better, sat with a sly sneer of self-approval and in a collective of one, proceeded to make valiant attempts to DJ the train car.
sufficed to say, it seems to be a complete failure. experiment in social public transit etiquette-hacking? trying to connect the masses with really bad music? an exercise is how long and loud such an activity can persist before someone throws a fit or a fist?
a definitely unique but not impressive new york moment happens right in front of your eyes. he leaves at the third station away from your point of entry, and you realize you forgot what you were going to do.
it takes a peek at your planner to get back on track, and both you and the train moves on.
indulge in a fantasy.