Riding home on the lovely Mass Transit-T one day, I step hurriedly onto my home-bound train and am so lucky as to get a seat (not common with all the liberated men using their elbows and claiming their seated territory.) I’m not in the mood to read, so instead my eyes linger outside the opposing window in a glazed-over daze….yet not so honey-dipped glazed that I don’t catch out of the corner of my eye this person—woman (I think) staring, nay glaring, at me from the opposite lineup of chairs. Maybe he/she is lost in a negative thought, and I just happen to be a vague obstruction….one stop…two stops… no, I am starting to consider very seriously that I have somehow, at some tragic point in time, killed this person’s parent, sibling, child or puppy. This look makes me feel just icky all over; a look penetrable enough to chill my very insides. At last, this person’s stop comes, and they depart, but not before one final nasty sniff in my direction, a scraping of the feet, an icy cold sneer that lingers long after the deliverer is left on the T-platform. “whew!” I think to myself as I try to return my gaze politely to some obscure point in the distance…except…I can’t… There is this sweet-ish (or Swedish) looking older woman directly opposite me who is just looking at me and smiling. Not a pleasant “how do you do, thank God it’s Friday” type smile. More like a “I’ve got a secret….it’s wrapped up in cellophane in my freezer in the basement….wanna see???” type of a smile. I try to determine which individual’s stare I prefer, while simultaneously wondering how the heck is it that people are so blatantly lacking self-awareness! I’m not being weird by noticing their stares, they are literally looking at me in such a way that makes me squirm and check for boogers and wonder if I really am the only sane one on the train.
In trying to avoid the basement-dweller’s unyielding gaze, I try to look around the car—anywhere but over her head or remotely in her general vicinity. A few seats down from smiley Starrer is a younger-ish gal reading. I am forever curious as to what people read, and quite the offender when it comes to checking out people’s books on public transportation (a book jacket is NOT the same thing as a person’s personal person!) She’s reading…wait, almost got the title…it looks familiar like maybe…Whoa. My eyes have accidentally (perhaps a shift in the train tracks—who’s to know?) shifted upwards and it is amazing but this gal looks remarkably like Eva Mendes. Younger, and, as this is Boston MA public transportation, it is clearly not Eva Mendes, but by golly the resemblance is fascinating! Even the way she has worn her blond and amber-streaked hair up with the flirty bangs brushing her face, and that unmistakable mole! I think I like moles, selectively placed in proper proximity to the nose and lip…well, maybe not…no, yes, I certainly do think they add to a face…well, the right face…she has the right face…
Somewhere in all this pondering, I realize that I, the offended, have now become the offend-er, and am staring, awkward and oddly, at this young girl. I am the creep. My eyes dart quickly away…but I can’t help but look back, like I’m a child being told what NOT to do, but I just-can’t-help-myself….
We’re ALL weirdos at the end of a long Boston workday, heading home on the T. Unless we’re reading, in which case—we’re spared from all offense.
Unless we’re reading aloud…..
Do you read aloud often on the T?
ReplyDelete