Three days off from the Speaker From Hell.™Everyday at 8:45 am, on the last stop before I end my sojourn, the engineer feels the need to blast, at shuttle-engine db levels, a :45 second clip of any song he sees fit. These might include but are not limited to, Ticket To Ride from The Beatles or Voodoo Child from Jimi. But yesterday’s was so scary I forgot what it was. Starland Vocal Band comes to mind.
But it’s not all about the music, is it. Here’s a few more train spotting things I’ve taken to naming:
Stand-up Reading Lady® - She’s three stops from her stop, but she just has to stand by the door and read the same damn book, never looking up as people pass. And if someone fails to close the door, no worries mate. She’ll reach out with one hand and close it for ya. That’s right – without looking up.
Loud-speakerphone Nextel Guy® - “NOT SURE WHAT TIME YET. ARE YOU GOING TO BE HOME LATER? OK, I’LL GET THEM THEN. OH, GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO PETEY. YEAH. HE GOT FIRED. NO, YEAH I’M NOT KIDDING. I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN SOONER OR LATER. I MEAN GEEZ, A LIVE GOAT. HEY, YANKS ARE PLAYING TONIGHT. YEAH, I KNOW. NO PITCHING. TORRE HAS TO GO.”
We know this man, and we hate him. We know his cousin: the guy in the background of most sporting events on TV calling someone to tell them what we already know: “Hey look, I’m on TV!”
Random Buds® - Weekly, I will kick or knock over empty beer cans left behind, but never single cans. Strangely, I find myself now thinking that there must be a beer for every beer out there, a beer soul-mate, if you will. (Note to self: register beerhookup.com.)
The Roamer® - This species usually is male, in their 50’s, could be on a day off, or just takes the train so his wife doesn’t find out he lost his job. Scratch that. He’s coming this way. No way he’s married. Has at least one shopping bag with something heavy causing him to lean hard to port. And he does this as he goes from car to car.
Not to mention ‘that smell.’
Grandpa Ticket® - If Wilford Brimley never went into acting, I swear this is his twin who’d be collecting your $7 fair and dispensing wisdom like “Nope. The Express is the only way into Penn.” 40 days out from retiring. Old-school who has zero tolerance for dayworkers without tickets, feet on seats, or young punks, punk.
I’ll Get There When I Can Guy™ - A special breed. Still angry at the judge for taking his license on that DUI, that he’s now going to take it out on the rest of us. How? By waiting in his car until the train pulls up, then sauntering, not hustling, but sauntering to the train with coffee in hand as he turns to wave good-bye to Anna Nicole Smitten. While we watch – and wait.
Can’t Wait To Have a Cigarette Guy® - For some reason, this guy has major sunburn. You rack your brain wondering if the Yankees or Mets were playing today. Then you think, wait, it’s only 8 in the morning – where’d it come from. But you people came for the cigarettes. Of which he has one above his ear, while he talks to his buddy in that 5-pack a day voice: “Yankees. Christ! No pitching.” Then he sprints off the rain at his stop to light up.
And if I had to label myself?
Back Of The Train Guy® - This guy heads to the last row whenever possible, ignoring the humanty around him.
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3 comments:
Those are oh-so-true.
Do I smell another installment of Real Men of Genius?
Let’s not forget GlamGirl Who Does Her Nails®
She’ll file and style as if the train were her personal salon, filling the car with polish fumes. Occasionally, she’ll even trim her toenails.
DW - Genius is definitely not what I smell everyday in the back row.
m - And miss all my fellow mankind?
hj - Ouch. Haven’t yet seen the toenail trick, but I bet when I do, Stand-up Reading Lady® will be sure to ignore her.
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