So, Should I Call You or What?

Nothing more romantic than a sunrise over the Manhattan bridge on your morning commute. Nothing more pathetic than getting shot down to the embarassment of your fellow commuters...

So I witnessed a rejection of epic proportions. A young gentleman, unassuming, with a small satchel slung over his shoulder, had been standing in front of a lovely young dame, seated. With the new day Sun at his back and a glimmer in his eye, our hero said something to our heroine on the D train over the Manhattan bridge. Our heroine, with the sun in her eyes and his satchel in her face, gave him a stare and said something back. Our hero reciprocated, said something else. He then walked toward me on the subway and proceeded out the door at the first stop in Manhattan, as our heroine looked on in bewilderment. I thought I'd seen the worst.

I hadn't. Two stops later at West 4th Street, I departed the D train for a transfer. Much to my dismay, I'd been cut off by our hero, who had disembarked the very same D train, though now two cars back.

He had no trouble walking up the stairs, as it was apparent his small sack provided no impediment.