Somedays I'm Glad I Took the Subway

Today is sooooo one of those days.

I have a new favorite. This favorite (almost) replaces my old favorite, the pigeon man, who walks around with a hunting cap and vest full of pigeon feathers, cooing at people. My new favorite showed up today at the 72nd Street stop.

cue intensely dramatic Old West music here.

The train stopped. The doors flung open and in sauntered the New York Cowboy. His heavy steps echoed, the clink of his spurs reverberating off the rounded walls of the 2 train. All fell silent as he gave a hard stare, hands on hips, to his surroundings. As he decided all was well, the doors closed behind him. He was a sight to behold, in all his leather-clad glory. From the carefully groomed handlebar mustache to the Wrangler jeans to the boots, he radiated nothing but machismo. Suddenly, the train lights glinted off his belt buckle, the one that said Buster in big gold letters, and the passengers in the train knew this was one tough buckaroo. He sensed his stop coming up, and he grabbed onto the ceiling to steady himself and show off his unconcealed guns. A woman swooned. As the doors reopened and he stepped out to 86th Street, I could have sworn he smiled, just a little, and tipped his hat. Then, as quick as he appeared, he was gone.

Yeah, it totally happened that way.