I walked into a deliciously air conditioned car and thought that maybe I would sit down and ride this local to work, instead of switching for the express train.  I was about to sit down when I realized a 40-something dweeby guy was full into a rambling disquisition on the intricacies of Pink Floyd’s music.  And he was loud.  I got off the train at the next stop and onto the steamy subway platform just to avoid being the accidental captive audience.  The express train came and, ahhhhhh, it too was air conditioned.  Wait, don’t relax yet — a non-homeless man (so he has no excuse) reading a book had the greasiest hair and the most formidable body odor that I have experienced in a long time.  Let’s not go further.  This was an express.  So, I had to concentrate on not fainting until the next stop.  I jumped out, scurried into another car, and was greeted by the smell of delicious coffee from someone’s thermos.  The car was air-conditioned and all was calm.