Close Shave

Since moving to New York over seven years ago, I conservatively estimate that I've taken the subway over 5,000 times. During all those trips, I've seen some unusual things, but only a handful of times have I been taken aback.

I never fully comprehend those who use their time on the train for personal hygeine. Styling one's hair using their reflection in a window is common, and applying makeup is within the realm of normalcy. For me, the trouble begins with the all-to-common trimming of the fingernails (thankfully, I've not seen anyone cutting their toenails—yet).

Today, as I looked into the window across from me, I noticed a reflection of a man moving his hands about his face in strange, but familiar ways. A woman sat between us whose hair provided a significant obstacle for a direct view.

I stuck my neck out conspicuously to peek around the hairdo and, to my amazement, the man was shaving. I have never seen anyone shaving on the train. He was holding a mirror in one hand while massaging his face with a quiet electric razor in the other. I was stunned. Why would anyone want to carry a bulky razor with them when they can just shave at home and be done with it for the day?

Wonders never cease, and the people of New York City never disappoint.