The trains were packed today as a result of riding out fewer numbers of cars to make up for the losses and getting people around after yesterday’s collision. I got out of the office a little early again today with the boss having called in sick, only to arrive at a half-full Orange line train running out L’Enfant Plaza.
Man, there are so many good looking people on this train.
I stayed standing by the door, not having many stops till I was getting off to transfer. A woman was so dead tired that her head swung forward and then back to rest on the metal bar behind her seat. She lapsed into a kick-me-in-the-face-tired kind of coma and dribbled all over her chin like a baby. The saliva just hung there in a thick layer, glistening in the light and no one seemed to notice. When we arrived at L’Enfant, a woman seated next to her near the window tried to wake her so she could get by. “Excuse me,” she said politely, tapping her on the shoulder, but the woman’s head continued flapping back and forth, her chin still soaking with drool. Thankfully she was a lanky girl, and just climbed over the woman who seemed unconscious even when she woke to see this, then closed her eyes again.
On the Green Line, we packed in tight and I stood next to a young girl writing in a diary. I glanced over to see that her entry for the day began… “I am riding the train and I am pluged [sic] into a beyond erotic audiobook…” Whatever it was, she listened to it the entire time she was on the train. She wrote in her diary that long too, and although it started somewhat enticingly enough, it ended with a generic drawing of a big heart.
There were two girls standing nearby who seemed to know each other from work. By the time I was finally able to sit down, in the front row next to them, I noticed one of the girls fishing through a larger-than-normal supply of designer birth control pills that I would later see advertised on TV tonight – a three month supply that allows you to menstruate only once every three months instead of the usual. She popped her pill unselfconsciously, though it was funny that her friend seemed to try and look away as though she intended the act to be private.
As we rode through the last few stations before reaching Greenbelt on the end of the green line, I was listening to my mp3 player, hoping the battery wouldn’t run out before the train stopped at its final destination. Across the aisle I had been watching this young girl talking to an older man. I guessed the girl to be the initiator of conversation, the one who appeared more at ease with it, while the older man she spoke to, who carried a book, looked to either sporadically add bits in hopes that she might be interested in him, or just because whatever they were talking about was interesting. Later, as the crowds waned and they found seats next to each, I noticed the girl never stopped smiling. Like she found everything around her to be damned amusing, but where others might say, ok, not everything is that wonderful. But the guy who she was talking to before, and was now sitting next to, did not smile at all. He either looked tremendously annoyed to be disturbed from his reading, or that he was just as puzzled by her consistent sunny disposition.