Many years ago now I was coming home on the Red Line after leaving school early. It seemed like a typical day on the Ashmont train until we reached Broadway station. A very average looking man boarded the train. Once the train started to move, the invisible crazy demons went to work. He looked agitated and started to pace up and down the train before removing his shirt and dropping it on a seat. The fitness buff in him suddenly took over and he spent the next two stops doing pull ups on the moving train. He didn't seem to mind that there was a woman sitting directly in front of him as he grunted and groaned and yanked himself up and down in his barechested glory. As the train lurched to a stop at JFK, he snatched up his shirt, put it back on his body, started to button it up and left.
The stranger response may have been the fact that on this semi-full train, only about 12 people looked up long enough to acknowledge the freak in our midst before they went back to their afternoon naps and newspaper reading.