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An unusual event on tonight's train commute home.

I was sitting my the window, idly watching the snowy banks whizzing by, when a young man, colorfully adorned in a St. Louis Cardinals-logo festooned jacket, sank into the seat beside me.

He nudged another young man who was in the seat ahead of us, and this man put out his hand and into it the colorful-jacket man dropped a misshapen lump of what looked somewhat like modeling clay. I regarded this with a certain degree of surprise, and the two men responded with with a couple of very swift glances that studiously any avoided eye contact with me. Thereupon, an indeterminate number of dollars were passed back from the man in the front seat to the guy sitting besides me. He gave me another sidelong glance and quickly got up and scuttled away to the other end of the train.

Undoubtedly a drug transaction. A little bold, I thought, considering it is heavily advertised that plain-clothes security guards patrol the Metro. Perhaps my erstwhile seating companion knows them all.