Homo Septans

New Slang
I spent part of my last weekend on a beer tour in the city. We visited Yards Brewery, drank free samples, toured the brewery, and crushed $3 grilled cheese. After that, we went to south street and drank 190 Octanes at Fat Tuesdays.
Although I had an awesome time enjoying the city I call home with some of the best friends I could ask for, perhaps the most interesting part was the trip to and from. Like when you're a kid and the best part of any present is the box it comes in. Public transportation always send my mind into a kind of analytic overload. There are few other places where you can just sit and watch people go through the daily routine of their life. Sidewalks and boardwalks are great for people watching, but they can be more like runways. Trolleys, trains, and airplane seats are the places where people lose pretense.
The Septa line we took down exposed us to some of the very best in people watching- the quiet girl who let smile after smile play out lightly over her lips as she read her book, the 16 year old boy with more tattoos squeezed onto his face than I have on my entire body, the horribly un-self aware woman who shoved all 280 lbs into 'Pink' short shorts, the young boy, desperate for attention, and living on a diet of chips and soda. As I sit and watch these people, I can't help but begin to dissect their lives in my mind.  How does a girl have a child that young? How hard is this man working that he has to nap on the ride between job 2 and 3? Who's more dangerous- the older man with the look in his eye, or the tall black kid with cut off dickies and converse sneakers?
This environment seems to provide a sliding door of anonymity. Every few blocks, you're a stranger all over again. No one wants to look, no one wants to know, no one wants to get too close. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.  Get on, get off, get on with your life.
The ride home wasn't without entertainment either. None of us had exact change, and the attendant got so fed up watching us try to figure it out, he just let us on for whatever amount we had. Ant, Bub, and Brian started singing Lion King songs in doo wop, and I got to pull the chain with the bell on it to let the trolley operator know we were ready to get off. Three times.