I recently wrote about how I was willing to sit in traffic for one hour and forty-five minutes to avoid riding on the metro. That reminded me of a story – so, lucky you. Today is metro story day.
Many years ago, I worked in Washington, D.C., and I rode the metro to work every flippin’ day – both ways – uphill in the snow- barefooted – with only dropped breadcrumbs to help me find my way home. I hated it. Mostly because people are rude and sometimes gross. Very gross. They pick at things on themselves while riding on the metro that they wouldn’t even pick at when looking at themselves in a mirror – alone in their bathrooms. And, they shove. And, they play their music too loudly. And, they sing horribly and horribly loud. And, they are too free with very personal information. And, I am not picking on people who weigh too much – but sharing a seat with someone whose butt is bigger than your not-so-tiny buttocks is too squishy. And, as I mentioned, they smell – and not all sorts of loverly flowers in a meadow smells – icky smells. And I just happen to be all about a good seat – which is impossible to find in rush hour the metro.
And, maybe – just maybe – I am a brat. Maybe not – but possibly likely.
As it happens, there was a day when I got a great seat – near the door but on the aisle side – and the metro wasn’t too crowded. There were just a few people standing. So, there is this guy standing just across from me. We see each other – look away – I try not to giggle – he tries not to notice me trying not to giggle. This goes on for several stops. People come in and go off the train. Sometimes we have eye contact sometimes we don’t. Which was great because it was becoming awkward. I wanted so much to say something to him but I just did not know how.
Finally, it looked like he was getting ready to get off the train. So, I quickly ripped a piece of paper from my book and scribbled a note on it. I got up the nerve and handed him the note as he was leaving the train. My face became flush because it was really awkward. He smiled. I giggled and quickly looked away. And he walked backwards out the door.
I still cannot believe I handed him the note. I am glad I did but I am not so sure he felt the same way.
What I did not realize was that I would be left on the train with all the people who saw me give this strange man a note. Jeez Louise. Really? I got a few knowing stares and I wanted to scream, “His fly was down. Seriously, you could have turned your music down and stopped picking at yourself long enough to have told him that and saved me the embarrassment.” But, alas, I just tucked my nose into my book.
What about you – do you have a funny metro story – do you tell people when their zipper is down or they have lipstick on their teeth?