Awareness settles in and I feel someone behind me. It is a man. I can tell by the firmness of his body. I am pressed into him, and he is pressed into the wall, for there is no more room. We are all sardines packed tightly in a hot tin can.He speaks to a friend nearby, shouting to be heard over the noise, the chaos. I do not register what he says, only the beauty of his voice that sounds like torn satin, rough and smooth all at once. It is mesmerizing. I picture the man who would po...