The underpass always contains a lingering smell, emitted from a phantom student or university employee who has braved the 101-degree dash from or to their car. The shady refuge is always a welcome landmark in my walk, for (1) the obvious cool nature of the underground tunnel, and for (2) the "what's their story" game I like to play. (I'm finding it sad to admit that it has become a game, and I hesitate to even call it that - just more something I inadvertently do every time.) I just always imagine what that person's physical attributes, where she was going, etc. It's a very judgmental thing to do, I do realize this. Stereotyping, in fact. But I do it, and wonder if others do it too.
Maybe it's because I'm in a good mood triggered by the knowledge I will be home soon, but I can't feeling some sort of connection when I consider these people's invented stories...like I'm reminded that we are all just going to work. Cheesy.
I also get this feeling when we all pull over for ambulances. I get all unnecessarily weepy and sentimental (well, maybe not weepy) for humankind and forget about the horrific news stories I've just read minutes before. I'm writing this not to sound romantic or overly dramatic, but because I'm just discovering the feeling and feel the need to capture it.
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