When the 1 train arrived we gathered around the door, and I could immediately see that space would be limited.  Even so, there would be enough space for most of us waiting to move on with our day.  At first it appeared that nobody was leaving the train while we waited for people to exit, but eventually a few did, including a parent and their child.  I was first in line, but made sure to wait and keep those behind me waiting until those inside had walked through the door.  Then two young guys behind me pushed their way around and slipped in through the doors ahead of everyone else.  I muttered under my breath that they were parts of the male anatomy, and they couldn't hear anyway because they had headphones on.  Usually I do too, but I left my charge upstate, so I can only enjoy music in my home.  The past seven days I've been hearing much more of the world around me than I am used to.  I love being more connected to the world through music, but sometimes the natural sounds of the world are music to my ears as well.  That's becoming the case more and more each day.

After we had entered the train, a large African-American man next to me commented, "I guess he really wanted to get in," referring to the guy who had barged his way in.  I realized he must have overheard me.  But he smiled.

Twenty minutes later we exited the train at the same station, and as we walked by the train doors, a man inside the train said something to the man who had overheard me before.  He smiled and said something back.  Then he turned to me and said, "I didn't know him, but that's fine."

I asked what he meant.  He said that the man had said he looked like someone he knew.  "I guess we all look alike!" he laughed, even though they were both darker-skinned.

"It's in the eye of the beholder," I answered.

"True, but I guess we do look alike to outsiders."

I told him, "I get the same thing very often actually.  With this red beard and hair I don't have a lot of peers, but still, I'm often told that someone saw me the day before, or somewhere halfway across the world, or their friend looks just like me.  I went to China once, and the passport guard had to call over three supervisors to triple check my appearance.  I guess we all look the same to them."

"I suppose you all do look alike," he laughed.

We continued talking as we walked above ground and on the street.  He talked about working on Roosevelt Island and how he had to work with many Chinese people, but it had taken him a very long time to learn all of their names and remember their faces.  I replied that I worked with international students, so I had gotten some good practice.

I complimented him on being outgoing in the city, talking to people he didn't know.  He said that people always ask if he's from around here.  I asked where he was from.  He said, "Harlem, born and raised!"  I had to walk across the street then, so I shook his hand and we went on our paths again.

The world can be friendly if it wants to be.