further notes on the commute

I've learned a lot about my commute. I've learned not to run for the 5:11, I've learned that the 7:36 brings a much nicer subway ride, I've learned which cars on the train have loud-cell-phone-talkers.
And, now that I've learned to move methodically through my commute rather than frantically, I have time to observe - and you know I'm keen on the observing.
Last night I was busy observing and was well rewarded for not running (like a crazy woman) for my train.
The station is especially crowded at ten past five. People move in swarms, some running, for trains in several directions. The tension is palpable. The sound is deafening in a strangely quite way. Last night, I was moving with slow determination toward my train when I noticed that a crowd had gathered and stood in a circle. It was near where they sell flowers and there was funk music playing loudly. Everything felt different and, for a second, I couldn't figure out if something had happened, if something bad was occurring. I moved closer to the crowd and realized that they were watching a couple of men break dancing. Just beyond them, a woman in a Santa hat was manning a boom-box and a fourth guy was passing a bucket for donations.
The music was booming through the station, the woman with the radio was dancing in place and the dancers were extraordinarily good.
Bear in mind: there are always performers of one type or another at the station. People rarely take notice of them. There is a guy with a keyboard who plays show tunes, there are the requisite South American pan flute players, and some days there is a guy with a saxophone. Commuters rush past these buskers all day, every day, without giving them so much as glance.
But last night was different. The dancers had captivated the crowd and people were not running past them. One of them was tall and very thin. He wore green leggings and a green shirt and had pads on so that he could spin and leap and fall on the floor. I was mesmerized.
And then, when I thought I could not be more impressed, I was.
A woman standing near me, in an overcoat and scarf, carrying a briefcase, stopped dead in her tracks.
She put down her case, removed her coat and scarf and moved into the open space the dancer was moving in.
She started dancing with him.
At first I thought she was a plant - a shill...I couldn't let myself believe she had nothing to do with the performers. But she danced for a couple of minutes. She lost herself in the music and they did not seem to know her or she them.
And, as quickly as she had become part of the performance, she stopped. She came back to the edge of the crowd and retrieved her things. She made a dash for the 5:24 and disappeared down a hallway and I realized that she hadn't known them, she hadn't been planted in the crowd. She had simply joined them.
For just a few moments we were not commuters, we were not rushing to the next thing, we were not a crowd moving from one thing to the next without thinking and looking and feeling. For a moment we stopped time and danced.