Calisthenics

There is a man at my train station who, every morning, does calisthenics while we await our transport.

Our station is small, so I often have to move out of the way to make room for his stretches, which make me smile and laugh because they are so irregular. I look around at my other commuters but they have no reaction. They stare forward. Some days the guy does presses on the wall, others he grapevines across the floor at high speed, all the while breathing very deeply. How nobody else thinks this brazen disregard for general social etiquette is noteworthy surprises me. But I guess NYC train riders build a silent wall to keep out the crazies, perverts, panhandlers, and Chinese battery salesladies.

Still, the day that I don't chuckle at a dude who does squats in tight business pants one foot from my person is the day I die.