nw3 to nyc

Observations on moving my family across the Atlantic

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Smokin’ hot

Another eventful journey on the subway. Deeply engrossed in the New Yorker (a great read, if not a bit too frequent) on the way home on my own, when suddenly there is an uproar in the carriage. A rather relaxed, possibly high, old guy is standing there nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. The smell is over powering and fills the carriage very quickly. The people sitting near him are shouting at him to put it out, telling him that he can’t smoke on the subway. He is getting it from all angles, I have never known so much passion on the subway before. He smiles and seems confused. He looks at his cigarette longingly and drops it on the floor, lightly stepping on it to put it out. The he picks it up, blows on it and in an attempt to re-use it later, he pops it into the brim of ┬áhis woollen hat and walks out of the carriage at my stop. His hat is smouldering.