I could feel the rain on my skin as my classmates and I hurried over to the T station that afternoon. Tiffany, Kristy, Amy and I were making our way to our destination: Downtown Crossing. The weather that afternoon was not welcoming; the clouds abounded and a constant rain hovered over us the entire trip. As we entered the Davis Square T station, we realized our mistake-we had chosen to take our trip during rush hour. While the mob of people made it difficult to board the T, or to even nab a seat, it dawned on me that this was the perfect opportunity to observe a large majority of Bostonians. What could be better than a subway car overflowing with commuters to get to know your fellow city folk?
             Tiff, Kristy, Amy, and I huddled close together on the car. We made a few jokes, giggled a bit, and shared experiences. (It was interesting to learn that Kristy spent a month in Europe with only her best friend and a free spirit to take her where she pleased.) At the Porter Square stop, a man sat down next to me, and began to play music on his headphones loudly. It was a sort of Jamaican/Reggae music, which was a little foreign to me. I listened intently, and noticed how his head bobbed to the rhythm of the notes. This African-American man was dressed a bit shabbily, and he was a contrast to the many Caucasian commuters dressed in their business suits and shiny ties. At the Harvard Square stop (where I noticed a large part of the commuters began to depart), there was music playing. As the doors of the T opened, the lively music of drums and percussion flowed into our subway car. We smiled and danced around for a bit, until the doors began to close. That was not the end of our music extravaganza though, because at the next stop, Central Square, there was more music playing! I could surely identify these sounds as reggae music, and I was quite familiar with it. I began to feel as if I were in some sort of ride; perhaps a kind of ride that takes...