It was about 6:50 am as I sleepily boarded a nearly-empty C train and nestled in for the rest of my commute.
At the next stop, this guy got on the train and sat down right next to me:
I don’t mean someone who looked like that guy—I mean actually that guy, in that exact outfit. He had the very sign that you see above informing whomever it may concern that he was Blackwolf the Dragonmaster, and, aside from his staff and magical miscellany, he was also carrying two books.
One was exactly what you would likely expect: a ponderous tome—presumably full of arcane alchemical formulas—though the only portion of the title that I ever managed to glimpse was “Dragon’s Blood”… or at least I think that’s what it said. This grand grimoire was tucked beneath his arm, which is why I wasn’t better able to divine its title.
The other was The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, which he was reading.
Now I can hardly say that Stieg Larsson makes for shocking subway reading. At the time it seemed that every other passenger on every single train was slinging a copy. It was totally ubiquitous.
