There was a man on the 6 train yesterday with the loudest iPod in iPod history.  I was halfway across the train–perhaps 20 feet away–and could easily hear the reggaeton spilling from his buds over my own bland white-guy music.

He was a burly Hispanic guy in plaid shorts and a sleeveless t shirt. He stood with his back to the door that connects cars.

Seated near him were two boys, maybe 5 and 7. They wore hats with foam sharks on the brim. I assumed they were the property of a man seated next to them, who had similar coloring, and also wore headphones.  

Perhaps I should reserve judgement until Little G is 5 and has a sibling. But it seemed weird that the father would have his headphones on with his two boys sitting next to him. I’d been chatting with a father I didn’t know at a festival over the weekend (our kids were playing together) about the iPod and its role in child development (no idea how we got started on that one), and how it affects interaction, conflict resolution, that sort of thing.

We got to 33rd. A seat next to the boys opened up. The burly guy with the loudest iPod ever sat next to the boys. He was the dad, not the guy on the other side of them. He put his long arm around both of them. One woke up and adjusted his shark hat. They sat in silence.

His iPod stayed cranking.

Good father, or bad? Doesn’t really talk with his sons. Buys them shark hats and, presumably, takes them to museums and/or aquariums.

Tough call, I thought as I got out at 42nd.