Yesterday on the train a (slightly derailed looking) lady wearing a t-shirt with a Bible verse emblazoned on it , went around to each and every passenger trying to get a handshake.
She'd try to meet their smartphone-occupied eye, and if there was no reaction, she'd tap them on the shoulder and hold out her hand to be shaken, mumbling something quietly in the process. I was in the vestibule bit, and waited patiently for my turn. I was impressed with the impressive stats she was pulling. Out of say fifteen or twenty people in the vestibule I only saw one refusal. A middle aged lady who was angered at being pulled away from her novel.
She got to me, held out her hand and did the mumble. I didn't catch the words, but it sounded nice enough, and her smile was kind. I shook her hand, smiled and returned the just-inaudible mumble. It was a nice moment. Though I must admit, and I do so with shame,as she left and I sat staring at my newly shaken hand, the first thought that popped into my mind was 'approximately one and a half hours until I reach a tap and some soap'.