Monday, 11 April 2005 | Morning subway party

Sometimes it's too crowded to read a book, because the necessary 8 inches in front of my face are already occupied by unfamiliar faces, hair, and shoulders. As an alternative, it's often possible to read other people's material. The other day, I found myself pressed at the backs of two strangers, my face poised over their touching shoulders like an anxious backseat passenger, and I read page 372 of Middlesex (hers) and page 123 of Please Kill Me (his). Newspapers are naturally more satisfying, since they're succinct enough to teach me something, and they offer choices.

I usually don't mind when the bodies of strangers hold me upright, like some sort of surfing marionette, as long as the trip is relatively brief. The forced intimacy is actually kind of amusing, mostly because (out of necessity and habit) we all choose to ignore it. Today I saw a tall, round Hasidic man and a short skinny black guy press their respective belly and chest firmly together out of rush hour desperation, each probably trying to pretend that it didn't make him uncomfortable. Of course, had the subway car been nearly empty, the very same interaction would've suggested a different meaning, or at least would've received more attention. Instead, few people seemed to notice, as there were unlikely couples smashed together all over the place.