A couple got on board the 8:28 at White Plains. They were in their 30s, black, normally dressed, pretty average looking, if not the commuter prototypes. The train was fairly full, and they milled around a bit, trying to figure out seating.

I sat on the aisle, as I always do. The man took the window seat next to me. His gal pal took the window seat across the aisle from us, so they were in the same row –only with two strangers and an aisle between them.

Despite the distance, their conversation continued. He leaned forward and asked her if her cellphone had power. I pulled back my Times so I wasn’t blocking their convo. She leaned forward and said she had a few bars. He said she was lucky.

The conversation went on for a few minutes, the words passing right through me and the other guy across the aisle.

They eventually grew quiet. I went on reading the paper. The conductor came around and took tickets. The guy had a single-tripper, the sign of a neophyte rider.

A few minutes later, it started up again, again about the cellphones.

I spoke up.

“Do you want me to switch so you guys can sit together?” I asked.

“Sure!” said the guy with a wide smile. “Thanks!”

As I got my things together, he asked me how my monthly ticket works; I sensed he’d been eyeing it when I took it out for the conductor. Personally, I feel the monthly pass is pretty self-explanatory, but indulged him nonetheless — told him I saved a few bucks by buying it online, but had to remember to get it each month before the current month ended. He seemed genuinely interested.

I moved, his gal pal took my seat, and the two of them went on talking about cellphones.