I got off the L train at Union Square. I had planned it so I was right next to the stairway to the R … this is apparently a sign of acclimation.

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In a crowd of people going every which way, I pass a man drumming deafeningly on a set of 5 gallon buckets. He’s actually really good, but he’s there like, every day, so I don’t really pay him much attention. In front of me a big guy in caterpillar boots and a paint-strewn work outfit, toting a giant red boombox spouting hiphop sounds, merges into my path and precedes me upstairs.  At the top of the stairs, the sounds of rap merge with those of Peruvian flute music being played at a volume that should be illegal (along with the music itself, in my opinion) upstairs on the main floor. I quickly make my way past the stairway onto the narrow edge of the platform where I await the R/W train. Wafting from further down the platform is an accordion player doing a standard. Four continents in 30 seconds.

And like a typical New Yorker, after 5 seconds of contemplation over all this, I cease to care.