Of Course He's in the Next Car, Honey.

So yesterday, C. and I found ourselves in Port Authority, catching the subway on our final leg of the journey home from South Jersey. We were both exhausted and slightly nauseated from our ride on the Peter Pan, not to mention the pathetic in-route entertainment, The Terminal, in which a bloated Tom Hanks talks with a ridiculous miscellaneous Eastern European accent the entire film. We waited an hour in just-above-freezing temperatures to catch the bus, which belched us out into Port Authority where more of New York City's sizable insane population was hanging out than normal. The late train we boarded wasn't much different. Oh well.

Also on the train were some (sane, generally) families, with kids hepped up on Peeps. We were sitting across from one of these families, who had a boy of about 8 and a girl, probably 6. As we pulled into High Street Station, the little girl became agitated, tore herself from her parents, and headed toward the door between the cars. "He's... IN ... THE ... NEXT CAR!!!!" she choked out. C. and I couldn't tell what was going on, and her parents gradually dragged her back to her seat, where she twitched, and craned her neck to see out the window.

When the doors opened at High Street, a giant sherbert-orange bunny boarded the train, nonchalantly walked the length of the car, and sat down at the opposite end. There he sat, examining his pay stubs or something. The two kids across from us, well, you had to be there, but they looked like teenagers at a Beatles concert in the 60s, jumping up and down, hands to face, kind of shrieking and mumbling at the same time, held back only by a parental hand on jackets. You could see in their faces that, actually, they may not have really believed in the Easter Bunny until this very moment, when they saw him, exhausted after a long day of his annual work, get on the subway and head home to Far Rockaway, or somewhere else condusive to bunny life.

A train full of crazy people, two hysterical (in a good way) children, the Bunny, and us: Easter in Brooklyn.