Monday, June 27, 2005
Missed Connection
I made a new friend on the train the other day.
As sometimes happens, there were a number of semi-literate, relatively-unclothed teenaged girls in the same car as me, and they were giggling and malapropisming up a storm. This was, of course, completely hilarious, if not especially flattering for our contemporary educational system. (Whatever happened to No Skank Left Behind?) As we approached their stop, these girls began wondering aloud which side of the train they needed to exit on, with a circularity and intensity generally reserved for Senate confirmation hearings and Faulkner novels.
And that's when my new friend stepped in. In her forties with what is probably best described as a "wrestler's build" and certainly not unfamiliar with the softer side of Sears, she ripped into these young ladies like Kirstie Alley with a jar of extra chunky peanut butter.
"Jesus Christ, you get off on the left side, okay? Jesus. Get off on the right and you’ll be electrocuted on the tracks. Not that I’d mind."
Properly chastened, the limp, useless teens departed silently, probably only later thinking to make fun of her shoes. My new friend then began orating to the train in general.
"I mean, Jesus, how stupid are they? It really makes you worry about the future of this country. Jesus Christ. And somebody ought to buy them some clothes, for God’s sake. I’ll chip in."
Apparently mistaking my best noncommittal face for a look of unadulterated support, my new friend at this point began directing all of her remarks to me and me alone.
"What stop are we at? Jesus, I’m going to be late for my own birthday party. How slow is this fucking train?"
Seemingly thinking it was time to move our relationship to the next level, my new friend continued.
"Hey, you should come to my birthday party. There’s going to be free beer!"
I demurred. This was not, however, enough to stop the onslaught.
"Jesus Christ, is the conductor asleep up there? How slow is this damned train? Jesus."
There were a number of other iterations before I eventually hurled myself off of the train three stops before my own. I won’t trouble you with the details, but suffice it to say that men my new friend used to date and CTA employees fared especially poorly.
People who need people really ARE the luckiest people in the world.
I made a new friend on the train the other day.
As sometimes happens, there were a number of semi-literate, relatively-unclothed teenaged girls in the same car as me, and they were giggling and malapropisming up a storm. This was, of course, completely hilarious, if not especially flattering for our contemporary educational system. (Whatever happened to No Skank Left Behind?) As we approached their stop, these girls began wondering aloud which side of the train they needed to exit on, with a circularity and intensity generally reserved for Senate confirmation hearings and Faulkner novels.
And that's when my new friend stepped in. In her forties with what is probably best described as a "wrestler's build" and certainly not unfamiliar with the softer side of Sears, she ripped into these young ladies like Kirstie Alley with a jar of extra chunky peanut butter.
"Jesus Christ, you get off on the left side, okay? Jesus. Get off on the right and you’ll be electrocuted on the tracks. Not that I’d mind."
Properly chastened, the limp, useless teens departed silently, probably only later thinking to make fun of her shoes. My new friend then began orating to the train in general.
"I mean, Jesus, how stupid are they? It really makes you worry about the future of this country. Jesus Christ. And somebody ought to buy them some clothes, for God’s sake. I’ll chip in."
Apparently mistaking my best noncommittal face for a look of unadulterated support, my new friend at this point began directing all of her remarks to me and me alone.
"What stop are we at? Jesus, I’m going to be late for my own birthday party. How slow is this fucking train?"
Seemingly thinking it was time to move our relationship to the next level, my new friend continued.
"Hey, you should come to my birthday party. There’s going to be free beer!"
I demurred. This was not, however, enough to stop the onslaught.
"Jesus Christ, is the conductor asleep up there? How slow is this damned train? Jesus."
There were a number of other iterations before I eventually hurled myself off of the train three stops before my own. I won’t trouble you with the details, but suffice it to say that men my new friend used to date and CTA employees fared especially poorly.
People who need people really ARE the luckiest people in the world.
