Eighth of the Eighth.

Walking down the stairs to the subway platform, a group of what I assume are tourists are standing right at the bottom, talking and not moving. The train's pulling in and I don't have time to think: I tap my knuckles against the back of the one right in front of me like I'm knocking on a door.

Amazingly, it works perfectly.

What also worked perfectly was twice tonight, getting into the station and to the platform within a minute of the train pulling in, where I walked down or walked up and it's arriving just as I am. It's now something where I have to stop saying it never happens and go to saying it almost never happens. Because it's now happened at least once.