When you spot your co-worker in the Chicago Avenue Red Line station just this side of 10 pm on a week night, striding as intently toward the train as you are away from it, and your paths are set to cross in three . . . two . . . one . . .
Don’t stop. Don’t take out your headphones so that he takes out his and the two of you exchange idle chit chat. The man’s got a train to catch.
Instead, just raise your right arm high, open-palmed, toward him, and don’t break stride. He won’t either, so that the collision of your palms will announce a collegial, even fraternal understanding to everyone in that train station with a CLAP to signal that, whatever else you lack right now, you’ve for sure got that guy.