So there I was on the E train at rush hour. It was wall-to-wall, door to door people. A tall young man, slightly to my right, wearing a green army jacket had stamped his foot. "stomp, stomp, stomp."
He seemed angry. Never a good sign.
Oh Lord, I thought, I only have two stops. Let me get to them.
Somebody said, "one" in a clear definite voice. His prerogative I thought.
And then somebody else said, "one."
What a coincidence.
Then the word, "one" bounced around the car. Different voices, different intonations. Different people. But they were all one. Actually, they were all one–ing.
This wasn't just a subway ride. This was a journey through hell, accompanied by a flash mob. How hip! How tiring. How crowded!
"Actually," I confided to the flash mob woman next to the, as I departed, "the correct answer is two."
