T Travelogues

On the train ride home this morning, gazing out the window and marveling at how speed and grass meshes together into one green blur, I caught sight of the man in the seat in front of me. Halfway to our destination on the half-filled train, he was using the window as a mirror to pop his pimple. It seemed like a private moment, so I looked down and went back to my book.

When I ride the commuter rail and subway for my commute, I cover pretty long distances so finding a seat is almost never a problem. Even though I always manage to snag a seat, I still worry about crowds because crowds mean people without seats. And people without seats tend to look forlornly at people with seats. I never know who I'm supposed to give up my seat to, afraid of offending people by my acts of omission as well as commission. There are a few safe bets though: oxygen tanks, preggers, and those that walk with canes. Those people will always be grateful. Everyone else becomes one tricky haze and I generally try to avoid eye contact in those situations. Today though, I gave my seat to a lady that I instinctively knew didn't deserve one: She was well dressed, maybe late-50's, but very healthy- healthy enough to walk toward the empty seats in the back if she really wanted. After flailing around for a couple of stops, the woman decided to stand next to my seat, an arm on the back of my seat and another on the seat in front of me, completely shielding me from the aisle. She looked ridiculously out of place, dangerously close to me, but generally forgivable until she opened her mouth. "I'm sorry but I'm about to kill myself," she said. Not a suicidal cry for help, no. But an over dramatic suburban woman who compares the experience of riding public transportation to that of taking her own life. I got up just so she would stop talking to me. I told her she could have my seat, tried to ignore it when she told me that my mother taught me good manners in the most patronizing manner possible, and moved toward the back of the car, to hang out with the oxygen tanks, preggers, and those that walk with canes.