I was riding the L into Williamsburg, and a cute brunette guy in his mid-twenties asked if there were hockey players on my shirt. I had always thought it was an elephant on my shirt, but he was right. I told him that his shirt looked like a man lounging on a loaf of bread. We chatted for the next few stops. When the train got to my stop at Montrose and I said goodbye and got off quickly without exchanging numbers. I looked back at him and he looking at me, then the doors closed and train moved along. I got off at Montrose, he said his stop was Myrtle Wycoff