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A ride in New York City’s subway is one you will never forget, or at least I won’t. As I walk down the terminal looking for my track number, I see the homeless lounging. These less fortunate individuals are trying to stay warm and catch some sleep before they are interrupted by a police officer who kicks them out to return to the cold. I smell the scent of urine in the air …

…five minutes to the train terminal. At the terminal John goes his way and I go mine. On the train ride back home, I recall the relaxing violin music I listened to before this whole event started. Being looked at by other passengers does not bother me one bit. I am too tired and too aggravated to care what people think about me. I just want to get home and take a nice long shower.