So today, for the first time ever (by myself), I took the train
into the city to visit my boyfriend at his internship.
Some people who take the train are very interesting...
So I've decided to blog about these people.
Here's how it works: Whenever I take the train (I'm not sure how often
that'll actually be...), I've decided to bring along my little purple leather
notebook and pick one person to write about. Then, after a somewhat extensive
observation period (so...about 15 seconds), write down in my little purple
leather notebook what I think their life is like/about. Today, I had three
people who really stood out.
I've yet to decide if I'm going to tell these stories from my point of
view or theirs. I might do both depending on my mood. Each train piece will be
titled "Train Talks." There's no specific reason why this will be the
title...I honestly just like the alliteration.
For the sake of my sanity (and due to the early morning wake-up call
tomorrow...5:45AM PEOPLE), I'm going to write from my own point of view:
June 14, 2013. 12:21 pm.
My
mother was having a panic attack. It was honestly no big deal. I’d taken the
train a million times into the city before…with friends…but never by myself…and
never with a transfer…Okay, so I kind of saw her point. I was a little nervous,
too.
But can someone please explain to me why she
had to ask every single person that we saw at the station where they were going
and to help me if I needed it? Granted, there were only two other passengers
waiting along with us but of course, she had to pick the scarier-looking dude.
I don’t know if she picked this guy because she thought that he could protect
me (from what, though?? Getting lost? I didn’t need his help for that) or to
keep me away from the crazies (which evidently ended up happening anyway).
Our first friend is a man about 23. I’m
obviously using the word “friend” loosely…considering this is the same man that
I was just describing above. The very same one that my mother decided was my
guardian when she was putting my 20-year-old butt on the train. We were never
graced with a name so for the point of this blog entry, we shall call him
Trevor because he looks like that would be his name.
Trevor was an interesting fellow…especially
since the first thing that he did when we got on the train was roll a blunt (I
didn’t know that you could even do that on trains). I was obviously a little
more than shocked and much to my relief, when Trevor was done rolling, he got
off the train to smoke it. I wondered if it was good weed…like was it really that
good that he had to roll it on the train right then and there? I don’t know
what classifies weed as good, seeing as I’ve never smoked anything a day in my
life, but Trevor seemed like he knew what he was doing. It must’ve been good
weed.
Trevor was sporting black and red vans,
baggy blue jeans, and a black Hurley sweatshirt. He had a buzz cut and brown
hair. On his neck, he had a Chinese symbol that he undoubtedly got while he was
shitfaced. Obviously, since I’m American, the only Chinese I speak is the one
word that I get on the back of my fortune cookie’s fortune…so I had no idea
what it meant.
Another kid, about 17, had gotten on the
train sometime after Trevor and I had boarded. From where I was sitting, I
could only see that he was wearing a black sweatshirt with a white tie-string.
He had bags under his eyes and I couldn’t tell if his hair, which was on the
longer side, was blonde or brunette since his hood stayed on his head like his
life depended on it. From this point on, I will be referring to this boy as
hood-kid.
Hood-kid seemed extremely friendly seeing as
he was chatting up Trevor like they were old buddies (but then again, maybe he
just wanted some of Trevor’s weed…he seemed like a kid who’d enjoy that sort of
thing). After Trevor had gotten off, though, hood-kid became sort-of reserved
and focused on his cell phone. He really liked that phone…he was constantly
calling someone. I was too far away to hear what his conversations were
about…but if I had to guess, they were about weed. Hood-kid started to lose my
interest. I couldn’t tell if I got bored with watching him or if my need to
find a bathroom ASAP was taking over.
Eventually, I realized that the bathroom
thing was totally an issue and I needed one right away or else I was literally
going to explode (damn my love of Starbucks venti iced white chocolate mochas).
As I was on my way to the bathroom, we reached hood-kid’s stop and he descended
the steps. He looked very confused. Poor hood-kid. I silently wished him luck in
his future endeavors because he looked like he’d need it. See ya never,
hood-kid.
As I was waiting in line for the bathroom
(which took an ungodly long amount of time), some man (I want to say 28-30ish)
came stumbling in. I did not like this man. I did not like this man so much
that he doesn’t even get a name in this blog entry. That’s how much I did not
like this man. Here’s why: 1. He stumbled in…which leads me to believe that he
was a. high; b. blackout drunk; c. an idiot; d. all of the above. 2. As I was
waiting in line, he thought that it’d be a-okay to cut me in line. I would’ve
attacked him like a panther if that door opened and he got into that bathroom
before I did. That just was not going to
happen. Not over my dead body. 3. He sat next to me. I don’t like when
strangers sit next to me…. and I especially hate
drunk strangers who then proceed to open their idiot mouths to hit on me.
“Hey, look at me for a sec.” I turned to give
him a death glare that screamed don’t you
dare talk to me you psycho. “Wow, you’re gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous,” he slurred.
Insults shot through my head but I kept my mouth shut. He continued. Okay,
dude, I get it. How about telling me that I’m smart or athletic or something
else that’s actually worthwhile? I’m not just a pretty face you jerk.
Finally, after a prolonged amount of silence on my part and numerous dirty looks, he walked away. As he left, I
looked the man up and down and wondered how he even got himself dressed that
morning. I rolled my eyes and realized I definitely should’ve been meaner to
him…or told him that I knew kickboxing (even though I don’t).
So, based on the day that I’ve had, here are
a couple train taking tips:
1.
Go to the bathroom before you leave (OR don’t
drink a large coffee from Starbucks…resist the temptation).
2.
Keep to yourself unless you want to make some
new, usually unwanted, friends.
3.
The longer that you’re on the train, the more people
that will come on. Prepare yourself to deal with assholes. They’re everywhere.
4.
Always plan your route ahead of time.
5.
Keep your wits about you.
6.
Learn kickboxing just in case you have to deal with
thugs/hooligans/delinquents
a.
Carry some mace or pepper spray for the same
reason.
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