let sleeping folk lie
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
A couple of weeks ago we went to the sea side to take in the scenery. The train we rode out terminated in the town we were visiting, and everybody piled out.
Except for one woman, who was asleep. I wanted to duck back in and alert her that she was already at the end of the line and about to start the long haul back into the city. But I was carrying Ken in a sling, and Mari had her hands full with the baby carriage. The train doors closed and off she went. I felt a bit bad about it, though to tell you the truth she had a bit of a "walk of shame" look to her and figure she hadn't really intended to come out anywhere near as far as she had.
I forgot about the incident until I walked out onto the platform of the Oedo subway line today. There was a fellow sitting on one of the benches facing the line bound in the opposite direction. He, too, was fast asleep. Then his train rolled up, and the doors stayed open for a while.
I whipped out my camera and captured the scene. Sleepy businessman in the foreground, train doors invitingly open just beyond him. The doors stayed open long enough that I was able to frame him a couple of ways. It was fun.
I seem to have gotten over my misgivings about not waking people on the trains in a hurry. Now I say let sleeping folk lie.