Public Transportation

I thought I was going to have a really funny story to tell about my commute this morning. Instead, it turned into a lesson in sensitivity. Sometimes I need those reminders.There is a woman who rides my train that is a buffoon. I know, you're probably thinking that I haven't learned that sensitivity lesson very well. Well, she's not the one who taught me that lesson. Once I'm finished with my story, you'll know why I STILL think she's a buffoon.

This woman happens to ride the same car as me, gets on and off the same stop as me, and annoys me every Tuesday and Thursday (the days I go into the office.) She is in everybody's business, and very loud about it. For instance, someone mentioned that she was going to apply for a new job. The buffoon said (*LOUDLY*... I have to reiterate that in case my point wasn't clear), "Wow, $25.00 an hour. That's WAY more than you make now."

I would have been mortified if I were this woman.I know that I could take a different car, but this car is convenient. I can usually tune her out. Not today though.This particular car is the front car of the train. One of the managers (that's my assumption based on the fact that the conductor calls him "boss" and sometimes he holds impromptu staff meetings) and his secretary of the Department of Transportation (DOT) also ride in this particular car. They get on at the stop after mine and usually sit at the same table, a table that is across from the buffoon's typical seat.

This morning an African American (yes, using this additional adjective is important to the story) woman was sitting at the DOT employee's table, and had her bags sitting on the chair next to her. One of the rules about riding the train is that you must always make room for all passengers. Luggage racks are above the seats to store your belongings and you are advised that you are to use those, rather than the seats, as your personal storage area.

The DOT employees boarded the train and the manager asked the woman if he can sit in the seat where her bags are sitting. She said "No, my bags are here" and offered no further explanation. Suddenly the game on my PDA didn't seem nearly as interesting anymore. I wanted to see how this would play out.

Apparently the DOT manager didn't have a mouth from which to speak because the buffoon said LOUDLY, "There is a luggage rack above your head for your bags. Put them up there."

The passenger then said, "I don't want to put my things up there. I have valuables in my bag and they are going to stay right where they are." At that point, the DOT manager quietly (note: quietly) said to the passenger, "that's ok" and moved to another car.

Buffoon: That's against the rules. You are supposed to move your bags.
Passenger reiterates: I'm NOT moving my bags. They're staying right here. Leave me alone.
Buffoon: You don't know who you were messing with. The person who wanted to sit next to you could kick you off the train immediately.
Me: (thinking) Wow, I have a feeling this will make for a great blog entry.

In came the security guard who also happens to be an Africa American woman.

Buffoon: Go have a talk with your 'sister' (I'm NOT lying... she really did say that.)
Security Guard: Just because we're both black does NOT mean she's my sister
Me: Completely mortified at what just occurred, yet not really surprised that the buffoon would say such a stupid thing.

The security guard walked over to the passenger and said something quietly to her. I'm assuming she's telling her to move her bag because there are still two more stops.

Passenger: Don't come up on me all sideways like that. I'm trying to study for my test. I am NOT moving my bags. Just leave me alone.The security guard then told her it's ok, and to just study. Then she walked away.

Personally, I thought that was the right thing to do. The whole thing didn't need to escalate to that degree. Thankfully, the buffoon shut her yapper.

Here comes the part where I learn the lesson in sensitivity.Up until that point I was thinking that the passenger was just being stubborn and I thought she should have moved her belongings. I did not think, however, that such a big deal should have been made of the situation. Yeah, I'm talking to you BUFFOON LADY.

Twenty minutes or so had passed and the security guard came back to our car with the handbook and calmly showed the passenger the section in the rule book pertaining to this situation. The passenger then went on to explain that normally she does follow this rule, but she has a big test this morning that will greatly impact her grade. She went on to tell the security guard why it was so important that she pass this class, and that when she is under this much stress she is forgetful. She explained that she was going to have to rush off the train to make it to her class on time, then said that she was afraid that if her bag was up in the luggage rack, she'd forget it.The items in the bag were for a family member that she had to help out after she takes this class.

As she continued explaining the situation, I started thinking to myself that I rush to judgment too quickly. I made a judgment that she was being stubborn and that there was nothing more to her story. I judged her because I get annoyed at people who think they "own" all of the seats around them and do not leave room for other people to sit by them. I never think about the reasons why they might be doing this.I'm going to try to be more sensitive about this from now on. This was a good lesson.

My commute to work is a long one. If I drive, it's well over two hours each way. If I take the train, it's only about an hour and a half. Taking the train is the way to go because I can read, play games on my PDA , do some work, or even sleep. And of course, there's the benefit of not having road rage to and from work. Always a plus for everyone concerned.

The train is set up so that there are sets of four seats facing each other. Some have small tables in the middle so you can do paperwork and things. Not much in the way of leg room, but then again, I'm only 5'3" (on a tall hair day) so I don't require much.

Normally, I'm in a good mood when I get home after riding the train. I have time to decompress, and relax. That wasn't the case yesterday.

The train was crowded, but I found a spot with a table (generally not my seat of choice, in case you're wondering). I sat on the opposite corner from a guy seated next to the window. The train started filling up, so I scooted over to the window seat so now both seats toward the aisle were empty. In hindsight, I should have taken off my coat before doing this because once you're wedged in there, it's impossible to move much.

Two ladies sat down at the table. I'm guessing that they're in their early 50's and they worked together. The lady sitting diagonally had really thick black eyeliner on and it was all smeared. She also drew outside of the lines with her orange lipstick, and wore lots of really gaudy gold jewelry. I averted my eyes the best that I could.

Immediately, the painted lady started yacking. She started talking about things clear back to her high school days, still pissy about a grade that Mr. so and so gave her in her biology class 30 freaking years ago. She talked all sing-songy, drawing out and caressing her syllables in a way that drove me nearly insane. The other lady would try to say something when the painted lady went to take a breath, but then the painted lady would continue yapping right over the top of her. She'd even made a weird sound while breathing in, like she was saying "ummmmm" (I'm guessing so she makes a continual noise so her co-worker wouldn't interrupt.)

Then the guy across from me decides to lay back a bit and stretch out. His legs ended up over on my side. So now I had to bunch my legs over as close as I could to the wall and he was STILL touching me. I also started getting very hot because I didn't take off my coat.

Wouldn't you know it since it was the commute from hell, the train had to make a lot of stops for some reason (it ended up running about 45 minutes longer than usual). The whole time the painted lady is yacking, my space is being invaded, and I'm sweating like a pig.

Yacking, yacking yacking.

"... annnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddd, I think I'll put on red nailpolish tonight. Or, ummm, I dunno, maybe a frosted pink." "I need to go to the store and pick up some milk and butter, annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd.... maybe I'll pick up some bandaids, you never know when you'll need them." "Did I ever tell you about the time that I used a bandaid?".....

Her yacking kept going on and on, all sing songy and stupid-like. I'm surprised my ears weren't bleeding by the end of the commute.

It was hell.

I was really concentrating on a project at work today and wasn't paying attention to the time. This is a dangerous thing to do because I am tied to a train schedule. Doesn't make a bit of difference if you're one minute late for the train or two hours late. When it's gone, it's gone.

I looked at the time on my computer and panicked a bit. I know that I need to leave my office at least 15 minutes before the train departs. I could get very lucky and do it in 11 minutes, but that's cutting it a little close and is exactly what happened. Apparently I wasn't the only one who was cutting it close.

I have to catch a bus to get to the train. There is one stop between where I get on the bus and the train. The bus seemed to stop an extraordinary amount of time at this stop. That's when I noticed the man sitting across from me. He was getting very irritable. He was muttering under his breath about how he's going to miss the train and how it's all his wife's fault because she didn't get off the phone so he could leave the office. I worried about his anger management skills. Then he said the most absurd thing I've ever heard.

Apparently the bus was stopped for so long because there was a wheelchaired person getting on the bus. That requires a lift to go down, the wheelchair to get on the lift, lift goes back up and then the wheelchair has to be strapped down before the bus can proceed.

This man actually said OUT LOUD, "Great, it's a G--damned wheelchair". I'm sure the look on my face showed exactly what I was thinking. What an idiot. Too bad that my thought bubble didn't pop.