Red line riders are so smaht

I love my fellow Red Line passengers. The academic line (it runs through Tufts, MIT and Harvard) is like a library in the morning, full of smartypants reading in such an orderly fashion that I feel like I’m in a school with corporal punishment. At one point, I glance down the row of seats to see every last passenger’s head in a book. We’re a lucubratory bunch—or just averse to boredom. Without reading material, I feel desperate; being bookless on the Red Line makes it worse, those other passengers just rubbing it in with their hefty reading material; I’d even read the free Metro when pressed. But on the Red Line, it’s best to have a book. But not just any book. These are elite readers, after all. Something like Proust’s Remembrances of Things Past will do nicely.

Reading on the subway. Everybody's doing it.

Reading on the subway. Everybody's doing it.

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3 thoughts on “Red line riders are so smaht

  1. I love it. Everybody on the 9 is reading the Herald. Or just listening to “My Life Would Suck Without You” on their iPods loud enough for everyone to be able to enjoy it.

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