Jan. 11, 9:53 a.m.
Q Train – 7th Avenue to Union Square
A young man, about 6 feet tall, is operating a T-Mobile G1 phone in one hand and a wad of Kleenex in the other. He’s sitting down and whisks through a three-move handshake to his buddy, who leaves at Atlantic, then scooches over to let an elderly woman sit on his left. She has her wool hat’s lime green trim pulled over her ears; he has the black fur ear covers on his hat clasped to the top of his dome – perhaps the reason he needs so much Kleenex. He’s in all black – hat, phone, jacket, shoes, Rocawear Jeans, the pockets resting near his hamstrings. He flicks his finger a few times and pulls up Solitaire, then Hearts, then, as the train passes over the East River, his Inbox, and finally, as the train resubmerges, an updated billing summary for his phone. Then, back to Hearts.