Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
A few weeks ago I was on my way home on the R train in Brooklyn. The doors opened at Prospect Avenue and an older Asian man entered and sat down in one of the two-seaters against the wall.
He had a white plastic bag on his lap. He opened it and took out a plastic container and a plastic fork. He opened the container and I could see what looked like lo mein inside. He began eating.
At the next stop the doors opened and a tall young man entered, wearing a studded leather jacket, numerous tattoos and a nose ring. He sat down opposite the older man. He had a white plastic bag on his lap. He opened the bag and took out a plastic container and a plastic fork. He opened the container, and from my seat it looked like lo mein inside. He began eating.
Suddenly they each looked up and saw each other. There was a pause. Simultaneously they raised their plastic forks in what I can only describe as a salute; they nodded and smiled, and then returned to their dinner.
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