Hair on the floor, under the seat of a subway car at 11 pm. Not a lot, a nice curved six inch pony tail ball in a lovely muted red color. We had boarded the ‘A’ train at the beginning of the run at 207th, and didn’t notice is at first. While chatting, at around 190th, we saw it. We were seated just a mite too far away to clearly identify if it really was a mound of hair although all alternative suggestions didn’t fit the bill. As the train filled up with Friday night revelers, no one else seemed to notice it. He got off at 59th, leaving me with the mystery unsolved. I couldn’t let it go, had to know by 14th street when I would exit. At 42nd, with only two stops left, I weaved my way through the now crowded car, to the seat under which the hair lay. Initially it was tricky explaining what I was doing, but once understood, all around the mound everyone got in on the discussion. Hair it was. No one knew why or from whence it had come. No one touched it.