The ride home is dull and sleepy tonight. A few people make quick phone calls as we emerge from the tunnel before 125th st. Mostly checking and returning voice mails in a last ditch effort to complete business or errands from the day. Now mostly everyone is reading, sleeping, or staring into space mulling over the days events or things still to come. Soon we will start making stops and the quiet tranquility of commuting life will be kicked back into action with packing of briefcases and putting on coats for the final leg home. Most days I hate all these people. Today I sympathize with what they have to do each day. No matter the income or satisfaction derived from their work, the commute is a hassle and we all have to deal with it our own personal way. The time spent alone with one's thoughts can be excruciating especially after a bad or frustrating day. Even joy has to be stifled and placed on hold. Many times I rush to my car, slam the doors, and as I quickly pull away from the parking lot, I scream at the top of my lungs just to clear my head. Just to threaten the silence and solitude of the group.
