Eventful Trains

Got my CDs today, four Stanley Huang CDs and a Wang Lee Hom CD. Yay new music!!! I’m hard-pressed to go to class tonight what with all I want to do with these CDs.

It seems the trains are set to be an interesting experience for me. I guess God thought in my lovely car I was lonely, so going to work should be a social experiment for me. Case in point.

Yesterday on the train I sat facing forward because that was the only seat left, and I am not about to ride backwards. I prefer sideways because the seats are at the door, and unless it’s standing room only, no one is in front of you. At least if you’re squished by an oversized parcel of humanity at your side, you have breathing room in front. And sideways helps with car-sickness. Anyway, the guy right in front of me had the whole shaved-head thing going on, dark glasses, camo coat and baseball hat, bushy moustache, all of it. Like a cop. I was looking at his head, bald as a lizard, no trace of a 5-o’clock hair shadow or anything. Maybe he waxes it. That kind of cleanliness takes discipline.

He lifted up his iPod as the train slowed to the stop. The song he was listening to…? Celine Dion, Princess of Musical Corn and Cheese. I shit you not. And the track name? Because You Loved Me. It was so hard not to laugh my ass off.

Today while waiting for the train a guy walked up to me, sweatshirt hood up, bloody scraped eyelid and all, and asked me if I know where the Records building is so he can register his new business. I said no, but told him to go to the Dart Police guy and ask him. He did, but then he came back and asked me hesitantly if I wanted to go for coffee some time. I said, “I can’t. Thank you anyway.”

Should I complain or be grateful that I’ve “still got it”? My mom says that eventually guys stop talking to women, once they reach a certain age. Maybe if I attracted a different type of guy, rich and hot and successful, I wouldn’t mind. But guys like Hoodie Boy and Book Man (did I talk about Book Man yet?) are not the type of guys you want sitting next to you on the train and chatting you up.

Book Man sat next to me and started to chat me up one afternoon, uninvited, and started reading my book over my shoulder. One-word answers weren’t enough to deter him, oh no. He kept on keeping on, and at his stop, which , mercifully, was before mine, he said, “See you around” or something like that. Hope not. Get a clue, dude. After the third question, it’s not bravery for approaching a woman, it’s harassment.

And then there was this other guy (it’s always guys) who sat across from me and started chatting up a homeless guy, and I kept my head down. Homeless guy gestured violently at him, the train noise too loud to hear over (thank God). Homeless Guy pulled stuff out of his bag to show the Talkative Guy, and I kept my head down, wanting nothing to do with this lunacy, as Homeless Guy asked other train passengers if they had any cigs. I prayed he didn’t see mine peeking out of my coat pocket. Homeless Guy got off at the stop before mine, but Talkative Guy proceeded to talk to ME about Homeless Guy, all, “Can you believe that guy? He was talking to me about sex in the bathroom at the train station,” and “Poor bastard” and “Why was he talking to me?”

As I am wondering why you are talking to me, sir.

People are nuts. Keep your headphones on and your book open, and nobody will get hurt. Unless a passel of high school boys are throwing shit around the train straight at each others’ heads again. I ask you, how can you duck if you’re trying not to look up in the first place?