We tryin’ to keep it quiet.
Three boys in their late teens boarded the train together. One pushed a large cart, full of crates mostly covered with cloth. Another rolled an enormous hard suitcase. One carried a cardboard pizza box, and dispersed slices once the other two were settled.
A few minutes into the ride, I saw a small white nose protrude from a space in the bottom crate, which didn’t have a lid, just another crate on top.
The nose peeked out a bit further and made a noise, drawing the attention of the one manning the cart. He leaned down and lifted the cloth, just enough to reveal about five small bodies in the crates, and whispered something to the animal.
He saw me staring and put his finger to his mouth in a “don’t say anything” symbol, then mouthed, “white rats.”
No one else seemed to notice, so I didn’t say anything, for fear I’d unleash panic in the car, and panic would only make things worse.
But someone else noticed a few minutes later and asked what they were doing.
“Shhh,” the boy said. “We tryin’ to keep it quiet.” He looked at his buddies and they all giggled.
But the next time one of the creatures stuck its nose out again, a woman right next to the cart caught sight of it. She bolted out of her seat and sprinted, screeching, to the other end of the subway car.
The rest of the passengers stared at the woman; slid over to seats further from the cart, if available; and stared at the boys, more bemused than scared or angry. The boys just laughed.
And I still wonder what was in the enormous suitcase.
