Who is Diamond Stud kidding? That’s all everyone on the Metro is doing—staring at everyone else and analyzing. But that’s all it is—mental doodling of sorts. That’s why there’s no conversation. Interacting with someone means they can affect you. We’d rather reduce each other to the fish tank. Alternatively, we can talk very loudly into our cell phones (this being the capital and Verizon a company with foresight, underground mobile gabbing has long been possible).

I tremble for the T. Talk Lite, indeed.

• • •

Another great place for people-watching: Camden Yards, the greatest ballpark on earth. I go on a night when the O’s are playing the Anaheim Angels. Cal Ripken has recently been named All-Star MVP, and when he comes up to bat, we all fall silent, like it’s an audience with the Pope.

We have prime seats. We are also sitting in the section where a semi-famous vendor named Perry sells beer. Perry sells beer fast and opens it even faster; he’s got an electric bottle opener (based on an electric screwdriver) that whirrs enticingly, and he makes it a spectator sport. People pull out their wallets just to get a close-up of the damn thing. He should sell that thing at colleges—he’d be set for life.