The Old Man on the Train

An old man sat next to me. He has a brown leather briefcase and part of me is sad for him, and part of me is happy to see that he is still working. He's eating a small vending machine-size bag of Lays potato chips and seems to be enjoying them. Even though he is repeatedly blowing his nose into a white rag, I do not mind him. A copy of "American heritage" just appeared from his bag. I have no idea what the magazine is about but I know that he is their target demographic. Wow. The article he's now reading is titled "Elvis Today" and I must admit, I'm pretty surprised. He's clearing his throat the way you shovel snow; measured and wet. I'm thankful for headphones and iPods, and youth -- regardless of how fleeting it might be.