MIB on the train

Last week on the train, a man noisily plopped into the empty seat next to me. At first glance, he appeared to be a man in black. Actually he was. He wore a  black polo shirt and dressy slacks that cried out "Look at me I'm an Urbanista".  We started chatting about homemade yogurt, gardens, and life in general. He was a freelance interpreter for the deaf filling in for the summer at a call center in the City. During the past academic year, he assisted several Yale students and was planning to accompany one student to Oxford for his junior semester abroad. After a long stint at the Rochester Institute of Technology as an interpretor, he reluctantly moved to Seymour.  The highlight of his 12 years at RIT,  was a month-long trip to the Galapagos Islands assisting a graduate biology student. This really made me feel like shit. My life sucks big time. But then again, it could be much worse, I could be living in Seymour.