Ladies and gentlemen, this is your conductor speaking. Please forgive the short delay while we remove a substance of indeterminate origin from the tracks. However, if you’re curious now that we’re not moving, feel free to shift to the righthand side of your car for a rare look at genuine subway dweller. This person has taken on the work ethic, if not fashion sense of a rodent, after years living beneath the surface. Don’t wave, don’t look them in the eyes and keep all extremities inside the car at all times. I only have so many rabies shots on board.
Don’t mind that smell, it’s just my lunch, a tub of past due cream cheese and a day-old bagel. Amazingly, they’ve yet to master ventilation in these tin cans.
To your left is Sal, he’s a construction worker on his smoke break. He detests other human beings and prefers getting fresh air in a place devoid of it.
If you look closely, a bit beyond Sal’s smoking hand, you should be able to make out some graffiti, or what, some people politely call “scratchiti.” Frankly, I can’t tell the difference between scratches and cursive, but friends of my insist on calling it art.
I’m running out of material. We usually start moving by the time I begin explaining the difference between graffiti and scratchiti. Anyone know magic? How about a joke? Have you heard the one about the stranded subway car?
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