Friday

Look people, it's the end of the week and we are all stressed and tired, but would it be at all possible to treat each other with a tiny modicum of respect? We are all obviously going home to a better and more relaxed place. This should all make us collectively happier, right? Right?

So stop being a collective of entitled cock-gobblers, and sit down and shut up if can't treat your fellow rider appropriately. Okay?

And who the hell pissed themselves? Get that under control. It smells!

Dozen

Older lady in front of me has a Sony CD Walkman. I haven't seen one of those in a while. I wonder what disc she is listening to. Which 12 songs she chose to accompany her on the train. There is a nice simplicity to choosing your day's soundtrack. I have hundreds of songs at my fingertips, and thousands more on streaming, yet for her she committed to a disc and is going with it. Somehow I envy that. 

I had to move seats because these two old Mexican women are having a conversation. Judging from the tone of voice, it's a laid back talk involving nothing of consequence. The reason I moved is that they are having this casual chit-chat at like 120dB. Headphones at maximum, I couldn't drown them out.

And they haven't stopped talking the whole time I have been on the train. I don't even think she has taken a breath.

Jeez... Shut up.. It's early. Wish I had ear plugs on me.

Fluffy

This guy has one fluffy dog. It has an adorable little face and this huge poof of a body. I would be curious how small it looks when fully wet. 

The owner, however, is on an angry phone call saying over and over the words, "that's not true."

Like fifteen times in a row.

We entered the tunnel a while back and he is still talking. He had to been disconnected a while ago and doesn't know it. The person on the other end likely thinks he hung up on him. This should be interesting as we exit and they resume. 

Brief

The guy next to me has as much cologne on as an entire junior high school dance.

The lady across from me looks exactly like Cruella DeVille.

I currently am craving a warm summer morning, lying in a hammock and having a mug of coffee.

There are two women who just became friends because they are wearing similar hand-made quilted jackets.

"Gary Peters" just decided to take a conference call... 30 seconds before we enter the tunnel.  Gary is none too bright.

Is it Friday yet?

Drunk

There was a young girl falling-down drunk. Asks me 3 times at the platform if this one is headed the way she needs to go. I say three times that it is. She says thank you, sir.

Sir.

Then she sits down and falls asleep. Being nice, I woke her up when the train was arriving. She slurred another thank you and got on and passed out in a seat.

We entered the tunnel and a fare inspector got on. In the tunnel.  This other girl pulls out her phone to use the ticket app that TriMet provides, and of course since we are 160 feet underground there is no signal. She can't connect. At least he waited until we exited before demanding proof from her. 

Now there is an older lady who only has a one-word vocabulary at the other end of the train just saying every incarnation of the F-word known to man. It's mildly amusing but starting to get old.

Almost home. Wee!

Assume

When I was twelve I looked at high school students as so cool, and couldn't wait to get there. When I got to high school, I couldn't wait to be a senior and rule the school and drive a car.

When I was a senior it didn't mean much, I wanted to go to college, buy cigarettes and be an adult. They had all the fun. They partied and had no responsibility.

When I was 20, I looked up to people in their primes of thirties and forties who had houses and families and money. They had it all figured out with wisdom and knowledge.

Now I am nearing 40; next year in fact, and looking back, these milestones are absolutely nothing like I thought. None of them. Not even close. 

I look at people in their fifties and sixties and for the first time don't want to be there. I don't want to because my view of these older folks have always been wise, experienced and satisfied with their adventures in life. 

I have spent so much time waiting to get older, and it is terrifying to think of running out of time before I conquer the world. 

Unwieldy

Purse management is one of my pet peeves on public transit. I understand some ladies need to bring a carpetbag full of any situational accoutrement everywhere they go. It happens. There are guys like this who do so with a backpack. 

And let's be clear: if you are not a student, your backpack is a backpurse. 

I digress: if you deem it necessary to tote one of these monstrosities with you: be aware of where it is at all times when in close quarters. And for the love of god, no sudden movements like a pirouette. 

My matrix-like dodge to avoid being nailed in the eyeball by your hot pink, leather-studded satchel flail was deft but shouldn't be necessary.

Do it again, I might scissor your strap. And yes, I am super aware of what those things cost. 

Timing

I'm not sure how, but this morning has been timed pretty well. I woke up, hit snooze about six times, and was feeling crummy. A message from someone on my phone perked me right back up. 

Caught a shower, stayed in longer than normal just letting the hot water run on my lower back. 

On my way to the train station, I almost witnessed a guy in a crosswalk get smeared, and slowed down to make sure I wasn't needed (because it was a guy cutting me off that almost hit the pedestrian, so I would have offered witness.)

Once at the station, I walked up to the platform just as the train pulled up three minutes early at 6:18 instead of 6:21. 

Let's hope this luck continues. I could use a solid Monday. Lots of work on my plate this week.

Phone

Everyone has an electronic device. Portable entertainment. Adult babysitters. Anyone with one is quiet, sedate and unassuming on the train. Little microcosms of oblivious citizens not experiencing their world around them.

Very little can get these people to look up from their kindles, phones and laptops. I wonder how much one could get away with. I could start pole dancing and I doubt more than three people would even notice.

Granted I am not going to try. But hypothetically speaking. You know. 

It's Friday. Everyone gets a pass on their bad behavior. I just want a beer, and I want to put my feet up.

Age

Nearby is an aging punk rock guy. And I don't mean in his late 30's aging, but near-retirement. He has on black jeans, DC shoes, tattered hoodie with safety pins all over it, and a vest with band buttons stuck everywhere. And he is like early 60s. His knuckles are faded light green tattoos, but I can't make out what is written on them. It is either cool that he stuck with it, or sad that he lived through it without flaming out. 

It is somehow Friday, and I have no idea how I made it. I want this week done and in the books. 

Scents

Some days the train picks a random sense to assault and goes full-retard*.

There are days when terror grips my sight, and I am blinded by bad clothing decisions that are a cross between Safety and Carnival. 

Other days I have to hear terrible music, screaming babies, and/or mutterings from the mouths of undereducated idiots espousing opinions that are baseless and prejudice.

Today however is a full-frontal attack on my olfactory system. The whole car smells like a moldy camping tent freshly picked from a moist basement after six or sixty years. Bad perfume, worse breath, and I'm relatively certain the guy next to me just sharted. 

There is little escape. No earbuds or napping eyes to block this. I have my face in my shirt trying not to pass out. Just kill me now.

*You never go full-retard.

Wobble

This morning is just a day that makes you want to stay in bed. Cold, rainy, and I am so crabby that the sound of the lady nearby flipping through her newspaper makes me want to roll it up and swat her like a spider.

I simply want to be under my protective blankets listening to music, and away from people.

The guy sitting in front of me is talking so loudly on his cell phone I can hear him over my headphones. I could punch him hard in the back of the head and nobody would rat me out. He is being so rude, I would only get applause. It's tempting.

Shoes

With my head down on the train, I find myself looking at shoes. I'm noticing a great departure from people wearing just tennis shoes. Lots of dress shoes, boots, loafers and hiking shoes. It is much more diverse and pleasing.

The swaying of the train is gently rocking me to sleep here; clearly I am not getting enough sleep at night. It's primarily due to being deprived of a basic human need which is almost more important than food or shelter: cuddles.

You heard me. I now require these magical things in order to sleep soundly. It feels like a medical condition (I'll try to get it into the DSM-VI). 

I want ice cream. 

Thick

There seems to be a contingent of rather large people on the train today. Now, people come in all shapes and sizes, but typically there is a variety.  Today: nope. 

And I don't mean a 20-30lbs here, I mean like 375-500 wheezing, neck-like-a-pack-of-hotdogs, big. Like "go for the record" contestants. It's very odd. I'm mostly concerned for their health. 

It makes me want to actually exercise more myself. I do, after all, have another 37 lbs to lose. We shall see how quickly that comes off. Stress has a way of making someone slimmer.

Failing

There is a teacher with a terribly bleached mullet grading papers across from me. It's an exam and she has the scorecard on one knee and a stack on the other. She is using a red pen to grade them. It looks like a crime scene on the pages.

Years ago, I had an amazing English instructor, Mr. Staley. He refused to use red pen for just that reason. He said it felt like he was scratching the papers while grading them, and causing our hard work to bleed. He used purple and green mainly to be more gentle with his corrections.

I suppose it's good no aliens ever took his creative writing classes. They might be mortified.

Grind

Today on the train is "Look quizzically at your phone day," as though we are all in a spy movie, and everyone's phone just gave them instructions to strangle the person to their left.

Post-vacation depression is a real thing, not treatable with medication: I just need left alone to my 300 or so emails. Let me readjust to this sterile existence and try not to make eye contact with me. No sudden movements. No loud noises. 

Time

Trying to recall the last time I took measurable time off work and am struggling. You know you work to much when you can't remember vacation. And right now I am not even talking about two weeks here, or a month there, I am looking solidly and willfully at a week. 

No alarms. No commute. No clients. No management. No meetings. Just peace and quiet next week.

I really should do it more often. Spending days off here and there as "mental health" days is great, but a block of contiguous time can grant perspective. It allows someone to focus on things that may not have been given a proper share of time.

Crotch

Busy train. This isn't unusual, but having a guy shove his crotch in my face is a bit extreme. Manners people.

This week needs to accelerate a little. That would be fantastic. 

Eep! New stop. More people. Too crowded to keep typing.

Sleep

We all need it, but your bag doesn't. Sorry I had to wake you up to move it.

Oh wait,

No I'm not.

Learn etiquette you troll.

Dinner

Lots of cold people on the train tonight. And it's quiet... Very quiet. So much so that we are all hearing the most inane and wandering conversation ever. I'm getting snippets that sound like him eating tomatoes or lame hamburgers while catching up on TV at a friends house. And he is taken aback at how the friend wouldn't let him stay longer to watch TV. All sorts of sad. Poor guy seems to overstay his welcome. 

To out do him, another guy has sparked up a rather loud conversation of his own, only in a foreign language, on his phone. It sounds Arabic, but I cannot be certain. The cadence sounds right for it. 

I am just leaning into the heater getting as warm as possible. I need sleep.

Shiver

I missed my regular train today because I had to spend more time today scraping ice off my car and warming it up. I'm not too concerned as it doesn't delay me a whole lot.

This train though is much busier than my usual one. Pretty surprising at 630am that it would be already pretty busy. Though much of this will exhaust out halfway there at the main transit center, so I am not that concerned about this guy standing next to me giving me face-ass.

This week is sorta clunking along so far. Like the day's batteries are low and that  second-hand looks pensive and hesitant as it whirls around the clock.*

*to any youngins reading, a clock is a gear-driven mechanical apparatus that indicates time based on which degree on a circle an indicator, or hand, is being pointed. 30 degrees per hour, 6 degrees per minute.

Room

Dude look. You have broad shoulders and so do I. You have had them for a long time - longer than me considering you are in your 50s. My point is: learn how to wield them. Guys like us sit at an angle, or lean forward a bit. We do this because the person next to us ultimately doesn't need checked like a hockey player into the window.

Accidents happen and, as a result, protocol dictates we apologize. 

You did not. 

So me puffing up and checking you in return was my equal way of saying, "it's all good, bro." 

Your dirty look means nothing. Bring it.