Sometimes I see people who look like they stepped out of the Jersey Shore, into hockey jerseys, and onto the train. I sit on the top level of the double-decker, usually listening to The Moth. When the facial expressions of these college students or recent graduates become interesting enough, I turn the volume on my iPod lower. Their conversations usually involved alcohol and drama with their jobs or friends. A few girls with straightened hair and ample makeup on laugh too loudly at the things the chubbier boys with facial scruff say.
There is always a designated beer-toter carrying a box of beer on the seat next to him, filled to the brim with silvery blue cans. The train conductors look uncomfortable passing by.