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   I don't know what to expect as I step into the already crowded subway, but I am greeted by a pleasant smile from an older Pakistani man seated across from me where I sat down.  The tacky orange and brown arrest my attention at first, but it soon is the inhabitants of thecar that grab my interest.  A young, ethusiatic Hispanic pastor standing by the doors gives me a quick grin before returning to the group of poorly-dressed children bouncing around him asking for their favorite stories about Peter and Jesus.  A young Japanese girl tired from a long day of shopping looks up to flash a quiet smile at one of the boys, relecting for the first time in a while that maybe money and sophisication really can't buy happiness.  A clean-cut businessman in just his late twenties wearing a blatantly expensive suit turns slightly away from the scen in visible disgust while returning his attention back to the voice on the other end of the cell phone.  An ancient, tired-looking Chinese man with white, balding hair and dingy, red sweatpants watches him somewhat enviously standing across the aisle, but is thinking of just making it home to his wife of innumberable years.  Next to him sits an obese Italian man in all black preoccupied with the dilemna of what to do with his struggling restaurant but unablw to concentrate because of the taunts from the wall of posters facing him advertising the liquor  that he so vehemently tried to give up.  These silent personal struggles are momentarily noticed by a rather young Irish lad sitting on his other side hunched over and shifting his head quickly with a slight tinge of paranoia in his eyes as he fumbles to change the sides of the tape in his walkman that has been blaring a cheesy-sounding opera throughout the entirety of his trip.  As his music comes back on two Mexican women with poorly dyed hair and heavy makeup giggle like two chattering squirrels as they stare at the already self-concious traveler.  This sudden outburst of noise disturbs the adolescent black man standing up in the middle of the car who is obviously a member of a local gang, but instead of being angry he lets a small smile appear on his seemingly hardened lips.  A sharply dressed middle-aged black businesswoman sitting behind him notices this young delinquent for the first time as she looks up from sorting her papers which she believes to be her contribution to furthering "her kind" and takes the time to close the briefcase and move seats.  The rather muscular Jamaican man with dreadlocks who has been bobbing his head with the reggae musics emitting from his headphones shakes his head but still smiles at the woman's arrogant foolishness as she sits down next to him.  All these movements have been watched with overt caution by a family of somewhat overweight tourist who stick out sorely with their conspicious manner of dress and behavior.  Another family of slightly older tourists chatter excitedly in Japanese at the end of the car.  An Indian newstand owner intent on getting home so that he may see his children watches them for a minute in a rather blank manner.  The "sophisicated woman of the city" tightly clutches her Sephora bag as she snobbishly turns away from the man the turban and the offensive odor.  From across the train an anxious Danish inventor stares not at the lady but rather through her as he also unknowingly clutches his oversized backpack, now containing his whole livelyhood,  which has been lying on the floor.  He too receives stares from a young black child standing between the legs of his teenage father thrust into parenthood too early for both of them.  Then the little boy  turns to me and looks deep into my eyes with his own big, innocent eyes.  And it is at that moment that I realize that for a fleeting second I am a part of this great, unique family.  I am her brother and his son and her cousins and his brother-in-law and her nephew and his uncle.  And then the subway doors open, and some leave and others enter, and our family is born anew.