It's a Two-Fer

One evening last week, while waiting on the Bedford Ave station for the L to take me back to Manhattan, I heard the sounds of a trumpet. Normally, I would have enjoyed this, because I always like hearing music in the stations, but in this case, I would have preferred that the trumpeter practice a little more before choosing to play in public. Let's put it this way--while he wasn't playing "When the Saints Go Marching In," he might as well have been. I turned away from the trumpeter, and started staring down the tunnel, looking for the telltale gleam on the tracks that would indicate that a train was on its way. Suddenly, I realized that there were now two trumpets being played. I was surprised that the man's rudimentary music had prompted a jam session, but noticed that the second trumpeter was no better than the first one. I looked over to see who had joined in, but still saw only the one man there. He was, however, now playing two trumpets simultaneously. One was silver, one was brass, and he kept one pointed downward while the other tilted toward the ceiling. It's too bad that he didn't use the time that he spent learning this unusual skill to practice his actual playing, but I suppose that everyone needs a hook, right?