GASP. Are all the beautiful people scheduling a mass killing underground to get rid of uglies for good? Or are they merely being chauffeured back and forth to their high status jobs while the rest of us are being [monotone train man voice] "delayed because of the train traffic ahead of us?" It can take me upwards of 35 minutes to take the F to the east side and all I would like is some appropriate eye candy. Do the good looking men enjoy walking to work? And is that why they are so good looking? Are they in fact sprinting to work, avoiding the train and in turn maintaining their buff and perfect physiques? Or is it the persona of the train in general that brings us all down and makes us become unattractive? Here we are again, drudging along, spilling coffee on one another and crossing all personal space boundaries. It's hard to keep up good appearances in this type of environment. Or is just that good looking people don't want to be surrounded by the masses, so they choose not to? Does life come so easy and go so well for them that they never have to share poles and seats with the train people? They can take cabs and horse drawn carriages but no way are they squeezing in between the homeless man with an even teeth to toenail ratio and the cat lady whose dandruff has covered her 15 shopping bags.
Sometimes when I am thinking about where all the pretty people are hiding, [I realize it's above ground] I try to figure out what I could do to make the man in the tight swoosh swoosh [sound they make, unsure of proper term] athletic pants and giant oversized Union Bay circa 1998 sweatshirt, rocking out to Rod Stewart and looking at himself in the window, better looking. Then I look down and realize I am taping my foot to John Mayer on my chunky Ipod [very 1st edition] and am rocking sneakers that are supposed to miraculously make my butt firmer but actually just look like space shoes. Him and I are the same and we don't need anyone else.
The last time I saw an attractive gentlemen on the train I got so excited I ran to sit next to him, when the train jolted ahead and sent me flying into his lap. He got off at the next stop. I had no chance to ask him what it felt like to be apart of our world.
I have been in close physical contact with more people on the train than in real life. I have also felt more comfortable telling fellow train people that their fly is down, they have something in their teeth, they have dropped their tampons on to the train car, or give them a look of disgust when the crop dust me, more than people I have close intimate relationships with. I honestly got jealous when, during a huge snow storm last month, some A train passengers were trapped in the car over night. WHAT!? Why couldn't that have been me!?! The thought of playing games and singing songs to pass the time with my fellow commuters would make me gush any day. Yeah sure, most of them want my money, and I want to gut punch them when they try to get into the car when I haven't gotten out yet, but these are my people! Yes they have tripped me, stolen seats and fallen metrocards, reeked of Indian food and/or body odor [sometimes I can't tell the difference] but we share a common goal. We need to get somewhere timely and efficiently and we need to do it together!
It took me so long to learn the NY subway map, that now that I do, I've also developed a soft spot for these people. Whenever train people are waiting for more than 60 seconds on a stopped train, a common bond is formed by everyone of that car. We groan, roll our eyes and make some sort of statement aloud insinuating that we know what everyone is going through and we are going through it together. Fuck this stalled train! How dare they! Does this train not know that we are important people who have places to be!?! Train traffic!? What! Get your shit together. Can you believe that fair increase this month! Nuts!!!! But we will never not take the train. Oh, no, no- you may have made us late, irritated, and angry but you have never forsaken us NY transit! Except on a random weekend when a C train switches to an A and goes express from 59th to 125th St and we are trapped inside like rats. All because the conductor mumbled when he closed the doors in your face. Then we may take a day or two break. But we always come back to you. Always.
But back to my original point....OH good looking people why won't you just come along for the ride and give me something to do! I understand all my fellow, ugly and creepy commuters but I'm curious about how you function. I've run out of People Mags and can't bring myself to purchase a Kindle in fear that I may lose that along with my Ipod touch. Sit there, look pretty and let me stare. That's what train people do. We stare and then don't look away, we make you look away like you were the awkward person staring from the beginning. And that's how we are always one step ahead of you. And that's probably why you won't venture down to see us. So hey, you may be good looking and have better means of transportation- but we have a lot of other things to offer. We have music and snacks down here and there is always some source of entertainment; a domestic dispute, wrestling match, rat infestation. You don't know what your missing.
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