I scored a seat on the L train home last night. Which just meant I didn’t have to bear all the weight of my stuff and that I could completely zone out. I didn’t need to pay attention to the space around me and shift accordingly. I claimed solid real estate.
Of course, instead of zoning out I stared at the guy across from me, letting my imagination give him a life he likely doesn’t have. He was visibly exhausted as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a single-serving packet of pills. Ripping it open, he picked out the goods with shaking fingers and threw the packaging to the floor. Grrrrrr. Littering is so, like, 1980s New York. I didn’t care *why* he needed the pills, I was now only concerned with his flippant treatment of trash. He downed the pills with water and then toyed with the empty bottle in his hands (label was ripped off, so I couldn’t tell what kind of water he is).
In my mind I was daring him to toss the bottle on the floor, too. I mean, why would he need a clean subway car to ride in every day? The bottle was now garbage, too, right? What made the paper so litter-worthy and the bottle not? Is there a hierarchy of trash I’m unaware of? What makes us throw some of our garbage away, but not all of it? Why hang on?
Hmmmmm. My after-work & gym mind is starting to lose all intelligent thought. We shall call this “Commuting Brain.” The purgatory between 100% Smart Brain and 100% Zoned-Out Brain (when one thinks of, maybe, Cocoa Puffs… and… Legos).
If we got rid of all our trash we’d lose the opposing force to work against, right? I suppose this [pretty far-fetched] analogy gets all the more complicated when you factor in that he can reuse the bottle. Woah. Usable garbage. Oxy moron? I say as long as we use our trash for the betterment of something, then, sure! Hold the hell onto it. But if not, fortheloveofjehovah, use a trash can.
I think I should only stand on the train from now on.