After traversing much of the East Coast, the Bose headphones finally arrived Wednesday, so a big thanks to the fine young men at HQ.

You’d think I’d be ripping open the box, plugging in all the bells and whistles, and priming the QC3s up for their maiden voyage on the 6:10 tonight.

Instead, I’m staring at the unopened box. I’m anxious about trying them. They’re top-shelf, noise-reducing headphones–a commuter’s delight, right? Probably. But what if they come up a bit short? What if I call upon this elite bit of machinery and technology to innoculate from the cellphone screamers, wailing waifs and other anxiety-stoking denizens of the daily commute–and they fail to live up to their promise?

What if modern man has not yet come up with the flawless device for cancelling out one’s fellow man in close quarters?

Like an ace of clubs up your sleeve, it’s in some ways easier to keep the ‘phones in the box–all the while reminding oneself that one holds the gold key to the grief-free commute.

I’ll probably bust ’em out Monday.

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