Naked and Bookless

2002-07-10 - 9:05 a.m.

I went into battle without my shield again today. Every morning, way too early o'clock, I settle into my seat on the subway. Always a blue car (the brown ones are older and filthy) and almost always in the seats that face each other (to maximize legroom).

The same people ride with me every morning. The individuals themselves may vary, but it's always the same "people." There's the ladies who do all their makeup on the ride into San Frantique. There's the overweight guy in the undersized coat drinking coffee next to the "No Food, Drink, or Smoking" sign. There's the dozers, not to be confused with the Fraggle Rock architects, who seem to be able to squeeze in one last powernap before the day. There's the folks who stare at you. In the last seat of the car, there's the smelly heap of sleeping bum.

And there's me, without my shield. By shield, I mean book. By book, I mean portable escapism. I need to have something to divert my attention, lest I become a starer, as there's not much to look at out the window of a subway. I'm no good at nodding off for exactly 25 minutes, I don't wear makeup (to work at least), I don't drink coffee. I need that book to absorb me, to keep me from feeling a part of a mass uncomfortable silence.

But I didn't have one today. I didn't have one yesterday either. I won't have one tomorrow.

See, I'm broke, and the 15th is still a bit off. I'm not penniless broke, but I am dollarless broke. Until that big jar of change at home magically turns itself into dollar bills, I don't consider it money.

So, I'm biding my time, riding that line. Careful not to make eye contact, not to attract the stares. Hoping no one will notice I'm naked, I'm bookless.