Beat

It's as if every person on this train was in some sort of secret battle that nearly bested them. Worn make-up, disheveled hair, empty travel mugs, and closed eyes are how we interior decorate the car.

We don't care that we are going home so much as putting distance between ourselves and our grind.

And tomorrow we will all return, reluctant but somehow willing, to do it all again.

Late

The later train is a whole different cast of characters. Everyone seems vastly more awake and unhurried. If I didn't enjoy getting home reasonably early I might look into getting the 9-6 shift instead.

There are more students on board than professionals. Oh the days of not having to beat the sun out of its bed.

My research of the day is how I can lose 70-80lbs without crazy cardio. Don't think my leg could handle much running or impact. After my next chiro adjustment, I may look at yoga.

Electronics

Apparently the train suffers in the heat. I'm not talking about asphalt melting heat, just a few degrees above warm. It's only 88 and they are traveling at lower speeds and only have one car instead of the tandem two. 

I guess somehow that is out spec for the poor little engine that couldn't.

Although the AC is on and blowing so chilly that I could use a jacket. So there is that.

Blur

Apparently today is Wednesday. I know this because the radio station told me so this morning. The days are somewhat running together into a grayish sludge. 

This makes for an interesting train ride. Lights have tracers and the voices of people around me talking sound like the adults from Peanuts cartoons.

The color of the day is a peach/sherbet. Either it's the sun coloring everyone on board, or light orange is the summer color of 2014. 

Coffee

A large mason jar of coffee is the way this guy decides to start his day. Why wouldn't he want thirty-two ounces of the stuff? I hear rumor of people drinking two entire pots a day. I can barely finish a cup myself. It's too acidic and makes me jittery. 

But every time he unscrews the lid to take a sip, what can be described and caramel sewage pours out and makes me want to gag. Nasty.

But he has the tattoos of "Want Some" and "Get Some" on his right and left hand, respectively, and his fingers are numbered from 1-8 in Roman numerals. I think I'll just stare at the window and wish it weren't Monday.

Nervous

The guy sitting next to me shouldn't drink coffee. I say this for several reasons like:

• he is nervous enough as it is with his leg twitching next to me 

• his taste buds are either dead or stupid because his mug smells like a delightful mix of ash, dirt and feet

• he isn't very coordinated with his lips judging by the coffee drips on his shirt.

Today is Tuesday. Who needs to be awake for a Tuesday? Skip the coffee bro. Fill that sucker with some rum & coke and enjoy your day.

Patterns

It's odd that we as humans dress in patterns. Makes me feel like we never really emerged past our fur and feather wearing ancestors. I don't know what is so wrong with just a solid colored shirt, but everyone on this train is wearing stripes (horizontal or vertical) or some checkered plaid. 

Not most: all. It's psychologically I suppose our meek way of standing out and being different and unique.

Just not too different.

Pig

The train is having issues with a door. Upon arrival to the major transit center, a transit supervisor gets on and does an inspection of the door. This guy is an older Asian gentleman, and is tiny.

He has an enormous belt buckle that reads, "I Raise Pigs. I Eat Pork."

Okay then.

Flail

The woman next to me, who looks like a skinny Judy Dench, is talking emphatically and gesturing like mad. The main problem with this is that she has sharp elbows and they hurt when she jabs me in the ribs. 

I wish she would learn to whisper. Not because of the sound, but because perhaps her elbows would only tickle.

And her coffee smells horrible...  Hehe.

Dirt

There is a younger construction worker sitting next to me. His head is buzzed to a stubble and recovering from a sunburn. He is talking to another guy across the aisle about their site. Most of the conversation involves phrases like, "Sheeeeit, I know," and the word sunuvabitch.

He is wearing a hoodie and heavy cargo pants. Resting on one knee is a spiral notepad. Wonder what this blue collar guy has to say...

"Hey pretty girl, I miss you more each and every day.."

I stopped reading after that. None of my business. But I feel for the kid. I'm sure she will appreciate the letter.

Furniture

Daffy woman sitting across from me thinks I am a footstool. After moving around and avoiding her subtley, I finally made a big production about rotating my hips away and my legs away from hers. 

She seemed to get the hint, but not really.

She is wearing purple scrubs and has a cluster of large roses tattooed across her chest. She is failing to to divine simple space logic here, so I pity anyone who may get a needle in the arm from her someday.

The guy across from me looks like a cross between Jim Parsons and Michael Keaton. It's fascinating.

Better

It smells like sweaty feet and old ink on the train. Loads of people getting on and there is no reason why it's so busy today unless people simply do not want to drive on a Monday. To be completely honest, who can blame them? I don't want to drive any day: especially Mondays.

There is a lady probably about my age hovering over me. I can feel her eyes staring me down as to why I am not offering up my seat. The reason behind that is an easy one: I don't wanna.

That, and spite because she seems to be making a bigger deal out of it than is necessary. 

Delight

People going to work, people heading home, some going to school, and that pretty much sums up everyone on the train this morning. 

The only exciting thing that exists right now is the bookend drunks sleeping sideways at both ends of the train; their necks hanging half off and against the windows, and a paper bag with a bottle in as their seat mate.

They have a decidedly shorter to-do list.

Pause

It would be interesting

if Time, 

the big one with the capital letter, 

moved forward for humans 

at a steady 

perceivable 

rate. 

Picnics and kisses 

And music: 

Tick tick tick. 

Work and taxes

And oil changes:  

Tick tick tick. 

And those few moments, 

those moments that 

you swear last 

forever:

a speech

an interview

dinner with her parents

or with your own.

Tick tick tick.

But that pause 

from your soulmate

after you say, "I love you,"

the huge swelling

inside you 

while you are waiting 

for what seems

like

lifetimes

for them to say

it

back,

and the feeling that

occurs when

they do:

In that moment, 

I am glad I don't know

clocks exist.

Friends

The Divine Secrets of the TriMet Sisterhood?

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bus Pants?

Fried Green Ticket Fares?

Whatever you want to call it, there seems to be a collective of ladies who ride the train every day. They start as two and each stop seems to add a lady. They are chatting and laughing way too bubbly-like for this time of morning.

Makes me wonder if they are actually going anywhere, or if at a certain point they all get off, have brunch, and then so it in reverse.

Portland Train Brunch Club.