The Heroin Rocker and the Almost Hitman

One of the perks of working in the City, and commuting via train, is that I get to observe a big slice of human diversity. Between the door of my house and the door of my laboratory, on any given day I will see people from every walk of life - from the crazy homeless guy on the corner of 30th and Market to the investment banker on her way into Center City from the 'burbs - and of every color that human skin can be.

Sometimes, I amuse myself by making split-second assessments of personalities and life stories. This woman with the hard lines around her mouth but a sad look in her eyes is going through a divorce; that bespectacled young man grinning at nothing in particular has just aced his midterm exam in Accounting, and so on. It's not always easy to instantly invent something about those who just look like "ordinary folks," though sometimes the things that pop into my mind surprise me. And on many days, I tune out the whole parade and read a book.

But there are a few people I've seen that make a strong enough impression that I can't help but make up stories. One of them was the Heroin Rocker. Dressed in black leather pants and a black leather jacket, he's tall and sort of rangy, skinnier than he should be. Overall he might be about 45, but the bags under his eyes and the lines on his face make him look older. He has scraggly brown hair just past the shoulders, and looks like he must be on his way to a gig in some scuzzy bar, playing drums or maybe bass for a Black Sabbath cover band. Maybe in his past there were more glamorous venues, and the backstage parties went on all night, but they took their toll and those days are long past.

A character I just saw today, rather incongruous on the university campus, was the Almost Hitman. He had sleek sunglasses, a shaved head, a purposeful expression on his chiseled features, and a suit covering an athletic build. But the picture wasn't quite right; he didn't look entirely like a hitman and it took me a moment to figure out why. Then I realized - the suit was brown, not black. Hitmen must always and only wear black suits, it's one of the rules.