Love Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry (to the Other Passengers on a Crowded MTA Car)
April 21, 2009

Back when I first started working, I relied upon my iPod and the occasional book to entertain me during my morning commute into the city from Brooklyn.  Then one day, I spotted them: the PDA Couple.  Chances are that if you’ve ever ridden a subway in New York City, you’ve encountered one of their kind at one point or another.  There are plenty of Drunken Hipster PDA Couples that you can spot on the L train late at night on the weekends, so those aren’t really unusual.  In fact, they’re really quite common.  This couple, my PDA Couple, however, was special.

pda-couple(artist’s interpretation; not actual PDA couple, though these people are totally classy in their own right)

Like some magical clockwork we’d find each other in the same cart at least a few times a week.  They’d be pressed up against the doors of the train, dressed for their respectable adult jobs while making out like they were middle schoolers who’d just discovered the rapturous pleasures of first base.  Every morning that I’d see them, the air must’ve been filled with a strange magnetism that inexplicably brought them into my line of vision and quite explicably brought me to near tears/vomiting.  There love was moving to behold, inspiring to the bitter and heartbroken, and completely inappropriate for 7:50 in the morning.  This ballet of romantic mutual delight continued for months, and everyday it was a train wreck of passion from which, once spotted, I could never turn away.

Then, one terrible day, I stopped seeing them.  Nothing had changed in my schedule, so I knew something was amiss on their end.  I grew frightened.

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