Mid-afternoon, after a doctor’s appointment in the city, I boarded the Downtown 2 Train headed for home. The upshot of the appointment had me drafting a message on my phone so it took some time before I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the fellow passenger making gestures in his seat. Maybe he’s another orchestra conductor, I thought, not glancing over, the bulk of my attention still on my phone.
Years ago, on another train ride, and for the entirety of my trip, I’d observed another passenger nodding along with headphones on, gesturing in a manner associated with someone conducting an orchestra.
When the passengers to his left made their exit, he moved down, leaving an empty seat between us. Deciding to take a break from my writing, and curious about the gestures, I looked over.
He was dancing. As much as one could dance in a subway seat. Headphones on, clearly going through some hip hop influenced choreography, he was in the zone and really enjoying himself! He didn’t even appear slowed down by his face mask! At this time, in my part of the world, masks are still in place for folks taking public transportation.
His eyes were closed, his movements were gorgeous: the sharps were sharp, the fluids, so smooth, the pops-- you get the picture! I was so drawn in and he was sitting down! Imagine how phenomenal it would be to see him dancing without the restrictions of being in a seat, in a subway car half-full of passengers, and in a space where he could do so without the face mask?!! I loved that he felt comfortable enough to practice and appreciated how he honored the shared traveling space that was the subway train. I was the closest to him and couldn’t hear the music from his headphones. His movements adjusted to the physical space that he was literally inhabiting. And while other passengers directly in our section could look at him if so inclined, he clearly didn’t set out to get our attention. The experience of him was wonderful, and when he exited, I was still smiling behind my face mask.
Turning my attention back to the message I was drafting, I made a few notes. Then the singing started. As someone who’d been in choir and taken voice lessons, I recognized the sound of a singer doing vocal warm ups.
Oh so casually, I looked back up.
She had boarded through the same doors the dancer had exited and now sat on the end seat closest to her entry point. Perhaps a deliberate choice? It was a seat without its kin located directly across the aisle from her. Medium thick, wavy brown, shoulder length hair framed her features as she sang with one hand holding onto the front of her darkly colored face mask. The cloth mask covered her nose and mouth, while her hold allowed just enough breathing room for singing quietly.
Seconds after returning to my phone, her warm up transitioned into opera. She had fabulous breath support, and even though she wasn’t singing full voice, she sounded beautiful.
Like the dancer before, she clearly wasn’t trying to draw the attention of others. If anything, I’d bet she wished she had a rehearsal space in which to vocalize without inhibition. But perhaps she was heading off to an audition and wanted to seize all opportunities to prep beforehand. And again, like the dancer before, she, too, seemed to endeavor to make the best use of the space for her needs, while still honoring that it was a shared space. The half-full subway car was relatively quiet, and the only time the singer increased in volume was during the occasional surges in the clanging and whining of the train’s machinery or the shifting of gears.
She exited long before I got off at the last stop of the line, but thoughts of her and the dancer, their creative expression and the way they energetically inhabited our shared space, still had me appreciating their presence during our brief time together.