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2 transit
police ride through the waiting room on
mountain bikes, knocking on benches and waking
people up--"gentleman, i hope you're all waiting
for trains." it seems unnecessary and rude.
there's plenty
of room and it's cold outside. i
photograph them because i have a
special interest in applied bicycling.
my battery dies. i find an outlet and
plug my charger in.
one cop comes over and looks at it, asks me if
it's mine, says i can't do that. why? no
legitimate reason of course, but he claims i'm
stealing from his company. no more than if i
use the electric hand-dryer. it could be a
bomb, he replies. i show it to him: Canon. really?
these are very strange times... i
could've said, if you think this is a bomb you
need to go back to school. but i know he's not
that dumb. not even paranoid. just looking for
ways to justify: his job, his day, his life. i
sit back down and wait. it's quiet and time
oozes by.
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