I see them casing my car at Atlantic Street Station, peering in the doors to gauge the density of the crowd (too dense, their acrobatic dancing risks kicking some poor schmuck in the face). One of them motions to his buddies, and they get on, trying to look casual.
I make eye contact with one of them, making sure they are what I think they are - what else could the three athletic, skinny kids with the boom box be doing? - and then walk between the cars to the previous, where I can listen to my music in peace.
One of them comes up to the window between the cars and catches my gaze, spreading his hands like "why you gotta hate?" all mock offended, and I have to laugh.