Enjoy The Silence

On Saturday night I took the 6 train to the Upper East Side to go to Jazz's party. When I got off the train at 77th street, there was a group of 20-30 teenagers who were exiting the station ahead of me. My quick assessment was that they had to be tourists, judging by the way they were walking spread out on the subway platform...oblivious to the fact that others (i.e. Me) would want to pass them in order to get out of the station.

I noticed that about 5 or 6 of the kids were wearing identical yellow t-shirts. In my glance of the t-shirt I saw some text reading "Together In Christ" or something along those lines. I hardly believe Jesus would approve of preventing people from a swift egress from a subway station...but I will admit it has been a while since I've read the bible.

Making my way THROUGH this entourage I read the fine print on one of the yellow t-shirts. It noted that the group was from Westminster Presbyterian - Lincoln Nebraska. What were the odds?

My immediate thought was that I should channel my Mom and point out the fact that I was from Lincoln to someone in the group. I tried to think of an appropriate/funny way to bring up the subject to the group who, a moment previous, had been subject to my patented eyeball roll/sigh combination.

Rapidly going over scripts in my head, I tried to think of a way make these impressionable teens aware that it was possible to get out of Lincoln and move to the Big City...Hell I was living breathing walking proof.

My window of opportunity was passing. Every comment running through my head seemed forced, seemed designed to pat myself on the back for being an EX-Lincolnite.

En masse we climbed the stairs to the street. Outside I turned on to Lexington Ave. and walked away saying absolutely nothing. I don't know why I said nothing, but that's what I did, for some reason it made sense.

As I walked away I felt a wierd sense of accomplishment/fulfillment, not that it is an unheard of feat to move away from your hometown to New York, but that I had "passed" as a New Yorker. There was no tell-tale sign on my person that pointed out that I was from the midwest. My years in Lincoln were fact known only to me. It was my secret to tell and I could choose to release that information or not. I savored the fact that I chose not to...I was the person I was choosing to be. The Matthew Buell that I had created.