I was suppose to write a descriptive essay in my New Media Writing class that evokes and captures the reader’s imagination. This essay was inspired from true events that I actually blogged about late last year.

On my usual long morning commute to work, I would always sleep in the train hoping for a peaceful subway ride without any annoying disturbances. And there I was again today sitting idly in a corner of a crowded train, blasting the music through my earphones and audibly seclude myself from the world. I closed my eyes to temporarily escape, hoping to get away from reality’s cruel grip, who is always punctual to end my random reveries. And just as I expected, on time it came, disguised this time as an enraged fellow, belligerently shouting in the car, or so I thought.

He wasn’t a panhandler or homeless. He was the exact opposite actually. He was dressed in a gray pinstripe suit that complimented his shiny black shoes. He was probably better dressed than anyone else in the car, like a wealthy entrepreneur. But he wasn’t. He was a middle aged man, of African descent, carrying a beat up duffel bag in one hand and a book in the other. Receding atop his head were shades of scattered gray hair bouncing from the light from where he stood.

The man rested right in front of me when he entered the car. He looked weary, probably from fleeting from one car to another. He wasn’t begging for any money or food. He had a mission. He lifted up the book to his face and read aloud, proudly reciting a message with nothing hindering the passion in his soul. He was a moving speaker who did not need a stage or a microphone to share the good news. Tired or not, he squeezed his way through the immovable crowd, speaking vociferously with intensity, despite of his apathetic audience.

There were abrupt giggles and intolerable laughter from the mass as this undignified man simultaneously walked and talked. Right across from him were people ridiculing his odd behavior, assuming him like a crazy lunatic in desperate need of attention. Others smiled and nodded inversely as a sign of disapproval for this man’s mental capacity. The rest were just amused of this "fool" engaged in his own conversation. And as the doors opened at the next stop, he stepped out to transfer to the next car and a sudden burst of mockery filled the air.

I laid back on my seat in revelation of what I just witnessed. Suddenly, there was conviction tapping my shoulders from behind. I remember now. I was once guilty of ignorance like the oblivious crowd. Are we blind? This "fool" insignificant to everyone, did not ask for anything in return, not even for their attention. Yet this "crazy lunatic" had something important to give to the world that scornfully rejected him. There is an apparent presence of irony because we are ignorant fools ourselves living in blissful bigotry. After all, the precious gift he was sharing came from The Holy Bible.