Canine Compass

The other day, I watched a man wandering blindly on the train platform. His guide dog, sniffing the wind, led him in circles, until at last the man asked, or rather, told a big guy "I'm gonna need you to help me." The big guy escorted the pair to the edge of the parking lot, where the dog resumed his rootless orbit. By then, I'd boarded my train. As we pulled away from the station, I searched among the parked cars. They stood there still, a man and his dog.

Where Were You, My Cast?

During my walk from train station to work this morning, I noted that some of my favorite dramatis personae had been excised from the passenger list:

Woman, 50, short, bespectacled chatterbox with pan-American accent that seems to fluctuate between Columbian? Cuban? Haitian? Jamaican? Trentonian? (but I do know that the second she enters the train, she never stops yammering…her vague accent reverberates down the street after we disembark).

Woman, mid-20’s, tall, Elven, punky smoker with Amalie-cut black hair, pale skin, little nose, long legs (I usually follow her to Dunkin Donuts, where I duck in as she continues west).

Man, 30, gaunt, lanky, stick-shouldered, multiple man-bag laden speedster with crew-cut brown hair, large ears, long legs (marveling at his warp speed walk, I once attempted to match his gait…eventually I tired and resumed impulse speed.

Woman, 50, tall, regal, African American with a calm smile and quiet speaking voice that resounds reason (often, she is the sounding board for the pan-American chatterbox).

Speeding Toward the Future

This morning, the radio traffic reporter announced the digital travel time. Sadly, no mention was made for those of us traveling in analog.