Today is a happy story. Left out the house reasonably, almost, slightly approximately on time. Someone on the road tried it twice. They gonna have to explain to people at work what 2L’s means because I stamped that on they forehead.
Lady in the parking lot forgot or perhaps never knew what a rear view mirror is actually for as she reversed in front of me. So in other words like raindrops, idiots were in the air.
I mount the platform late. No umbrella tricks this time, just have to take it for what it is and I see a familiar face.
This man is a veteran. He has the train look that equates the “1000 yard stare” referenced in Full Metal Jacket. It’s more like a trance, a pre-game Zen like focus, it’s the same look you have right before they draw blood or drill a cavity.
It’s the look of focus for accepting inevitable suckosity.
He will remain nameless for legal issues but I knew he was DUN on sight. First because he normally take a different train. Second is because there’s only like 4.38 black people per train (I’m 1.5 of them) in the early morning rush and he didn’t notice me. Hard work had him burning the candle at both ends and in the middle. I said I had his back so he wouldn’t oversleep.
Literally the most I’ve spoken on this morning train in all year.
Ryders. We have to stick together like people outside in the cold. Huddled up against the elements. Elements of crap like tardiness, inadequate services, price gauging and just plain ridiculousness. But then again it’s the bucketheads on the train that piss me off too…..
It’s a turd sandwich and I’m caught in the middle.
Can’t win. Maybe it wasn’t a happy story.
Happy Hump Day.
Ryde hard or stay home.