On board with a lamp

On a typical morning, taking the rush hour train into the city, I will see people carrying only briefcases and newspapers. And while I can’t imagine why anyone would want to read anything other than the New York Times, I see more copies of the Post and Daily News than is healthy. But that is at least understandable; at least these people are reading rather than snorting coke or something. I suppose a titillating, skimpy-on-the-truth story about Britney Spears is a decent way to start the day, though I would prefer a skimpy-on-the-shirt story. At any rate, these sights are common and I hardly notice them anymore.

This morning, however, brought a surprise. A woman on the train this morning had a lamp shade. An honest-to-goodness lampshade. Nothing more, nothing less. Her commute boiled down to the transport of a lampshade. Where she was going is anyone’s guess, though I like to think that her previous lampshade was destroyed in a fit of fury after her secretary accidentally hung up on the President, who had called to congratulate her on winning the most recent National Spirograph Contest. I miss spirograph.