What was it, 20 seconds? A week ago?
I step over the gap and exit the train car.
Hundreds of Suits are charging for the exits and I’m leaning into the rushing current. The great Serengeti wildebeest migration in the tunnels of Grand Central.
I slow my pace and meekly hug the edge of the platform.
Hold it right there.
I remove my ear buds, re-grip my brief case and angle to the center of the platform – the whites of the eyeballs of the wildebeest bear down, they snort, annoyed, as I cut across traffic.
Shoulders spread Wide.
Torso stretches to Oversize.
Chest expands to Full.
Tail feathers flutter to signal “trouble.”
Directly up the nostrils of the charging pack.
Accelerating my pace, brushing traffic back.
Shoulders squared up, Rooster playing chicken.
The glares turn to bewilderment.
The tunnel empties. I stand alone. Smiling.
What a tool.