I was thrilled I could make the 3:45 train to Wassaic. It was off-peak AND through – the stars were shining upon me, ‘twas my lucky day! I snuck out around 2:56 and booked it to the 1 train. I had forty-nine minutes but still great cause for anxiety – holiday weekends are harsh on Metro North, and Grand Central is always a nightmare
I should have known when I saw the gleaming teal and blue seats of the new(er) train. Should have known that the next two hours of my life would be nada but doom and gloom. But the early dismissal had imparted a strange streak of foreign optimism into my normally cynical façade. It was scheduled to be a through train, after all, so perhaps Metro North was, for the first time ever, going to drive the new(er) train as far north as Wassaic!
I settled into my less-than-comfortable seat (the older trains with their grimy maroon and navy benches are far more cozy). I had three bright beacons of bliss to look forward to, three little diamonds in the rough: my soft, salted New York Pretzel (with honey mustard dip, of course), a fresh, unopened bag of Starburst jellybeans, and a book, City of Thieves (you should read it, it’s pretty excellent), that I was nearly finished with.
I really should have known, I’m such a dummy. Why oh why was I so optimistic? I ripped, dunked, and chewed my first bite of salty, mustardy pretzel – it was delicious. Nice and soft and fresh. I had twenty minutes before we left so I started reading and the train started filling. Then I heard the announcement. It was not going to be a through train, we had to transfer at Southeast. How dare you, Metro North! How dare you change a through train into a transfer train!
The Starburst jellyb’s coaxed me, though. I did have them to look forward to. And with only my Longchamp bag and my purse to carry, transferring wouldn’t be so very bad. My section of train filled up quickly and I put my bags on the seat next to me, passively aggressively hoping that no one would try to sit there. But I was, once more, sorely let down.
I had settled in a small section of train and with three minutes left till take off, there were two seats available in the section (hate you, holiday weekends!) One was the outside of a facing-each-other bench…and the other was next to me. An older, suit-clad gentlemen sized up his would-be train traveling companions: a slightly overweight, middle aged woman who obviously lived amongst cats, and moi. He chose the companion on this side of fifty and hovered over me until I looked up. Until I removed my ginormous purple purse from the seat next to me.
Stare-glaring at me, the man pouted as I stood up and let him in. Of COURSE I was not going to give up my aisle seat. And of course I looked like the crazy one. How could I not bow to him, how could I, a child in his eyes, not crumble in his presence, pick up my bags, and move to the inside? He was used to getting his way and seemed very peeved at my imperviousness.
Actually, he seemed pissed.
Or at least I felt like he was. I shrank into myself, making my body as narrow as it could possibly be – which wasn’t so very narrow, what with all the stupid Easter candy I've been consuming. I tried to put a buffer zone in between us. But apparently his thick thigh wanted nothing more than to brush against mine. Really, buddy? You're really going to keep encroaching on MY space?
Fine, I could handle the leg brushes. I took deep breaths, counted to ten. But he just had to burrow on down and get his magazine. Bored with that after about twenty-seven seconds, he just had to burrow down again, this time bringing out some stupid book (I forget the title but it really was a stupid, stupid book). Then his arm started nudging mine.
Perhaps it was because I'm overly deprived of personal space in this city. Possibly I was pissed that we had to transfer. Or maybe I was just overtired and anxious to get home. But every time this businessman's gross, burly, hairy arm touched mine, I shivered. Why was he invading my personal space? Then he took out his phone.
I'm sorry but some people just don't GET it. Their sense of entitlement is outrageously absurd. Really, mister? You're really going to scream into your phone when I'm thisclose to you? You're really going to brush up against my leg and elbow my arm every chance you get? That doesn't make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry that I didn't give up my seat for you but come on.
Still passively, but a teense more aggressively, I reached down and took out my iPod. Making obnoxious, sweeping motions, I put on my headphones and sighed. He probably didn't hear me because he was shouting into the phone but finally I tuned him out.
Of course he got off at Chappaqua (of COURSE he did!) so at least my torture was somewhat short-lived. Seriously, though, why are people so damn obnoxious?? You'd think I would be more accepting and not easily unnerved. But this guy really pissed me the f off. What with all his brushing and nudging and shouting - he was like an annoying, pesky little kid. A brat. A spoiled brat.
Ugh! No dankes Metro North on holiday weekends. Or really, no dankes Metro North when your purse doesn't count as a passenger and, unfortunately, cannot be the sole occupant of the seat next to you.
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