It was standing on the floor of the metro, between the doors on either side. Yes, standing. It was more vertical than horizontal, maybe 70 degrees from the floor. And so I stared at this, wondering how it came to be stuck in the floor like that when suddenly it fell over and lay prone. So much for that.

But then it stood up again. It snapped to attention, wavering a little as it settled into its 70 degree position again. I pointed it out to the others, and we stared at it. Then it fell over again. Then it stood up again. Then it fell over again. Then it snapped up again. It seemed to be standing and falling whenever either the accelerator or the brake was being applied -- a magnetic force must have been exerted on the hairpin, which must have been polarized slightly, and so for the entire trip, it kept standing up and falling down.

Well we started laughing and joking about it, and the attention we paid this hairpin attracted the attention of the other people in the car. Some of them started staring at the hairpin just as hard as we were, if more quietly; some of them didn't deign to express too much interest in something so ordinary, but they kept sneaking glances anyway. Eventually Dave slid his foot over and nudged it to a different part of the floor, more towards the center, to see if it would continue to do so there. It did, but on the upswing it only assumed a shallow angle of about 30 degrees. So I said, "Move it in the other direction. Over there." And Dave nudged it back toward where it was and a bit beyond. When the brakes were applied, the hairpin sproinged up almost completely vertically, and there were many assorted sounds of gleeful amusement.

Yes, even a simple hairpin can provide hours of amusement to those who know how to find fun in nearly anything.