I was getting on the metro yesterday when something strange happened. For the most part, there is an accepted code of conduct on the metro. Locals sit there, trying not to catch anyone's eye, spacing out and avoiding human contact, unless they know someone on the train with them. In that case, chatting quietly is permissible. Teens frequently chat loudly, rather than quietly, but that's teens for you. Tourists try not to fall over, try to figure out what stop they're at/going to, and talk loudly to the people in their group. Ones who have been to DC try to show off their knowledge.
But yesterday, there was a guy who didn't do any of these things. Instead, he got on, singing along to his music. This was enough to catch my attention. Then he started air drumming and I started wondering if I should move to a less crazy section of the train, particularly as he beat out a fast rhythm on the metal bar. I didn't; instead, I put in my earphones and watched out of the corner of my eye. And by the time he got off, I was a little jealous. Not of air drumming. I have no desire to air drum. But his complete lack of caring. He could care less what we thought of him. He just was happy to be there, happy to be himself. And that has an appeal to me. Maybe in a few years, you'll find me riding around, doing whatever I feel like, singing along to my music.