fallen object.

In effect the man took up five seats -- he sat in the middle of a row of three, and placed his suitcase in front of a perpendicular set of two -- but I forgave him this because he had clearly come from JFK and was not from here. I watched him closely as he examined his subway map and cross-referenced it with what was displaying on his laptop screen, wondering when the mass of people in the subway would become critical enough that he would be asked to move, or realize that he needed to free up several of the seats he was monopolizing. It happened around Jay Street, at the same time I moved to the other set of doors, which happened to be closer to him.

As the train was pulling into the station, the man shifted even more, to free up another seat, and as he did this, something fell to the floor at my feet. My immediate response in a situation like this is to pick up the fallen item and give it back to the person who dropped it. Of course. But this time, just as my body was preparing to bend down to pick up the item, my instincts reversed course and I continued to stand straight up. I pretended to ignore the item -- a DVD -- instead of retrieve it.

Why? Because it had the words "BLACK BOOTY" on it and also featured a related photograph. It seemed like perhaps handing the DVD to the man, a very white and timid-looking visitor to my fine city who did not seem to know he had lost his item, would cause him too much embarrassment. So I left the DVD at my feet until it was time to get off the train, and I still don't know if the man was willfully ignoring his fallen object, or if he never knew he lost his only copy of Black Booty.

In retrospect I regret not doing anything, because, while it potentially meant red faces for both of us, it would have also been hilarious. OR I could have picked it up off the floor and darted from the train with a cackle, which also would have been a special ending to the story.

What would you have done, I wonder.