To the guy on the train that sneezed... thanks.
Not a lot has been happening during my commutes lately. People get on the train, we ride, we get off. Nothing extraordinary.
This morning, as we trundled into the city, someone sneezed.
I glanced up, said "Bless you," and went back to my book. Then I glanced up again.
The guy that sneezed had captured my attention. He seemed to be around 30 years old, sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to his iPod. He was wearing jeans and a light blue button down shirt, loafers with no socks, and long, brown dreadlocks. He seemed so peaceful, riding the train and listening.
I wondered what he was listening to. What kind of music would he choose for his morning commute? Zeppelin? Queen? Jay-Z? Taylor Swift? Could he be listening to a podcast of some kind? A comedy routine? Stuff You Missed In History Class?
Then I began to imagine how all these different choices would change his personality. If he was listening to Zeppelin would he be a slacker? An achiever? What if it was Taylor Swift? What kind of man would he be? How would his choice of music affect my perception of him?
I imagined entire worlds for this stranger, his job, his girlfriend/wife (depending on his music choice, of course), his interests. I imagined him a football fan, an art lover, a hacker. I gave him friends and family, a dog, cats, a snake (the snake went with Blues Traveler for some reason). With each musical artist or group that I placed in his iPod I gave him an entire personality, a complete life as I imagined the person that would pick such a tune.
I found myself smiling, even giggling as certain combinations arose: the Taylor Swift listener is unlucky in love (of course) and enjoys World of Warcraft, while the Queen listener was an adventuresome traveler who works in human rights. I have no idea where these imaginings came from or why they went with the musicians they did, I just let fly. And it was great fun.
And he just sat there, listening.
I then realized that my imagination was extremely limited. Why couldn't he like World of Warcraft and Jay-Z? Why couldn't he be an adventuresome traveler and love Kelly Clarkson?
I then gave this man ALL the music and ALL the personality traits that I had previously compartmentalized. He suddenly became worldly wise, a free thinker, a humanist. He became an artist, a businessman, a sports lover. He became, in my mind, a man that would hang out with Banksy one night and Rand Paul the next, fitting in equally with both.
He became limitless.
I really liked that guy.
I wonder who he is in reality. I wonder if he feels his limits or if he allows himself to be immeasurable. I wonder if he reaches beyond himself.
Then I realized that I want to be that guy when I grow up. I want to be limitless.
In that moment I made a vow: I will try to see that version of people as often as possible. I will try to envision their infinity, their openness. I will try to look past the limits that people put on themselves and see the possibilities for them.
I soon thought, "If I can do it for others, I can do it for me."
Then I cried.
I haven't imagined possibility in so long that I had forgotten that it was feasible. I spend so much time fighting for things in my life, fighting for my health, clawing and scraping just to get by, that I didn't remember that I am also limitless. I have within me the possibility to do and be anything. I can be anything. I can do everything.
And I will.
As we exited the train, the guy that sneezed caught my eye.
"You OK?" he asked, seeing a tear on my cheek.
"Yes. Thank you." I replied. He had no idea what I was actually thanking him for, but he didn't need to know. It is enough that I do.
I wish this for everyone. I wish, for all of you, a guy that sneezes and takes you on a journey.
So, to the guy on the train that sneezed... you jump started my imagination and brought me to an epiphany today. You have no idea what you inspired, but I will be forever grateful. I will look for the limitless in others and, more importantly, in myself.
Thanks. Truly.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Adventures in New Jersey Transit
To the guy on the train who repeatedly called all of us assholes... just wow.
So last night was one of the worst travel experiences I have had with New Jersey Transit, but some of the greatest people that I've met along the way.
We began our journey on our usual 6:18 train to Summit, though it was a bit more crowded than usual due to earlier cancelled trains. Everyone was either settled into their seats or leaning against the vestibule braced for the short journey home. We made it as far as Secaucus (the first stop outside New York and not a regular stop on our train) where we sat for more than an hour. Apparently the Portal Bridge, which we must use to get to Newark, had a fire.
So we waited. Very patiently, I must add.
At about 7:25 we were kicked off of that train in Secaucus and had to trudge across the station to get on a second train bound for Hoboken.
Beginning to get a little grumpy now, I said, "Another adventure in New Jersey Transit."
"Always a good time!" said the guy in the aisle.
"Hey, it could be worse," the woman behind him added.
"Yeah," I said, "We could be on the bridge."
"We could be stuck in the tunnel," said another man.
"It could have been Sandy again," said a third.
"Oooooo, right," we all agreed. Anything is better than Sandy.
So with that in mind we all trudged together to the next train headed for Hoboken, attempting to remain pleasant. This train was packed to the gills as it housed not only the passengers from our train but from another stranded train as well. With sighs and resignation we stood together on the way to Hoboken.
In Hoboken we disembarked and headed to our third attempt at getting home.
This train, now this train was truly packed. As we jogged down the platform it became evident that we may not be able to fit onto this train at all. The doors to the first two cars were closed so we had to head down the platform even farther. The first open door I came to I saw people already crowding the vestibule, but I saw a little daylight near the door so I stepped in. The people there welcomed me with looks of understanding and we all shifted to make room for me along with two people who stepped in behind me. I made it about 3 feet into the train car before the wall of people prevented any further movement. Everyone in the car was trying to help as many people as possible get on, but at that point there was simply no more room.
We were packed butt-to-balls, nose-in-armpit, crotch-to-face. There was no more room.
One man had some inside connection to the situation with the trains and was giving everyone in our car updates as he got them. Several of us shared our phones with people so they could call home, we laughed at all the gawky touching and talked about NJTransit experiences that were much worse in order to make ourselves feel a bit better. There was awkward laughter and sighs all around.
Then came the shouting.
From outside the car came the voice of a woman, shouting and screaming that we needed to move so that she could get on the car. Many of us shouted back (some politely, some not) that there was no more room, nowhere for us to go. She decided to test that theory and tried to shove her way onto the car. She pushed against the wall of people which caused the group to lean away a bit, then as the attempt to keep ourselves on our feet had us leaning back toward her en masse she ended up on her ass. This caused more screaming and shouting for the conductor who basically told her that she was not getting on this car, she would have to wait for another train.
A collective "Wow" could be heard rolling down the car at that point.
A few minutes later a man began to shout that we needed to move, at which point the people near the door explained what happened to the woman in great detail (which made the rest of us laugh a lot) and told the man to try another door. He started screaming and calling everyone an asshole.
"You're an asshole! And you, with the red tie, you're an asshole! The lady with the blue shirt is an asshole!..." and so on. He named as many people as he could see in his tirade of assholes, screaming and beet red all the while. I haven't seen or heard a hissy fit like that outside of the Terrible Twos. It was quite impressive. He stood there on the platform, pointing, screaming, practically foaming, calling everyone around him an asshole.
The people on the car began to get into the game.
"Hey, asshole, could you move your foot a bit?"
"Sure thing, asshole."
"Hey, asshole, I'm sorry I stepped on your toes."
"Don't worry about it, asshole, it wasn't your fault."
For the next ten minutes we all addressed each other as "asshole" and laughed and relaxed and tried to make the best of a bad situation.
As we finally landed in Maplewood and queued up to disembark a man from my Jitney yelled, "It was nice to meet all you assholes!"
Perhaps it was the relief at being at our home station, or perhaps his farewell was simply that funny, but everyone on the car howled. The spell was broken, the frustration roughly at an end, we were almost home.
Unbeknownst to him, the pathetic, screaming man created a new tribe last night, a tribe of assholes who tried to make the best of a really bad situation, tried to keep each other relaxed, who worked together to make it home.
Today I am not ashamed to say that I am an asshole. I travel with a pack of assholes, and we rock.
So, to the guy on the train who repeatedly called all of us assholes... you need to learn to go with the flow. Yes, it sucks. Yes, it was insanely frustrating. Yes, we are all miserable about it. And as we all learned last night, screaming will get you nowhere. Hissy fits will make you an item of ridicule. And being an asshole isn't always a bad thing. But you ... just wow.
So last night was one of the worst travel experiences I have had with New Jersey Transit, but some of the greatest people that I've met along the way.
We began our journey on our usual 6:18 train to Summit, though it was a bit more crowded than usual due to earlier cancelled trains. Everyone was either settled into their seats or leaning against the vestibule braced for the short journey home. We made it as far as Secaucus (the first stop outside New York and not a regular stop on our train) where we sat for more than an hour. Apparently the Portal Bridge, which we must use to get to Newark, had a fire.
So we waited. Very patiently, I must add.
At about 7:25 we were kicked off of that train in Secaucus and had to trudge across the station to get on a second train bound for Hoboken.
Beginning to get a little grumpy now, I said, "Another adventure in New Jersey Transit."
"Always a good time!" said the guy in the aisle.
"Hey, it could be worse," the woman behind him added.
"Yeah," I said, "We could be on the bridge."
"We could be stuck in the tunnel," said another man.
"It could have been Sandy again," said a third.
"Oooooo, right," we all agreed. Anything is better than Sandy.
So with that in mind we all trudged together to the next train headed for Hoboken, attempting to remain pleasant. This train was packed to the gills as it housed not only the passengers from our train but from another stranded train as well. With sighs and resignation we stood together on the way to Hoboken.
In Hoboken we disembarked and headed to our third attempt at getting home.
This train, now this train was truly packed. As we jogged down the platform it became evident that we may not be able to fit onto this train at all. The doors to the first two cars were closed so we had to head down the platform even farther. The first open door I came to I saw people already crowding the vestibule, but I saw a little daylight near the door so I stepped in. The people there welcomed me with looks of understanding and we all shifted to make room for me along with two people who stepped in behind me. I made it about 3 feet into the train car before the wall of people prevented any further movement. Everyone in the car was trying to help as many people as possible get on, but at that point there was simply no more room.
We were packed butt-to-balls, nose-in-armpit, crotch-to-face. There was no more room.
One man had some inside connection to the situation with the trains and was giving everyone in our car updates as he got them. Several of us shared our phones with people so they could call home, we laughed at all the gawky touching and talked about NJTransit experiences that were much worse in order to make ourselves feel a bit better. There was awkward laughter and sighs all around.
Then came the shouting.
From outside the car came the voice of a woman, shouting and screaming that we needed to move so that she could get on the car. Many of us shouted back (some politely, some not) that there was no more room, nowhere for us to go. She decided to test that theory and tried to shove her way onto the car. She pushed against the wall of people which caused the group to lean away a bit, then as the attempt to keep ourselves on our feet had us leaning back toward her en masse she ended up on her ass. This caused more screaming and shouting for the conductor who basically told her that she was not getting on this car, she would have to wait for another train.
A collective "Wow" could be heard rolling down the car at that point.
A few minutes later a man began to shout that we needed to move, at which point the people near the door explained what happened to the woman in great detail (which made the rest of us laugh a lot) and told the man to try another door. He started screaming and calling everyone an asshole.
"You're an asshole! And you, with the red tie, you're an asshole! The lady with the blue shirt is an asshole!..." and so on. He named as many people as he could see in his tirade of assholes, screaming and beet red all the while. I haven't seen or heard a hissy fit like that outside of the Terrible Twos. It was quite impressive. He stood there on the platform, pointing, screaming, practically foaming, calling everyone around him an asshole.
The people on the car began to get into the game.
"Hey, asshole, could you move your foot a bit?"
"Sure thing, asshole."
"Hey, asshole, I'm sorry I stepped on your toes."
"Don't worry about it, asshole, it wasn't your fault."
For the next ten minutes we all addressed each other as "asshole" and laughed and relaxed and tried to make the best of a bad situation.
As we finally landed in Maplewood and queued up to disembark a man from my Jitney yelled, "It was nice to meet all you assholes!"
Perhaps it was the relief at being at our home station, or perhaps his farewell was simply that funny, but everyone on the car howled. The spell was broken, the frustration roughly at an end, we were almost home.
Unbeknownst to him, the pathetic, screaming man created a new tribe last night, a tribe of assholes who tried to make the best of a really bad situation, tried to keep each other relaxed, who worked together to make it home.
Today I am not ashamed to say that I am an asshole. I travel with a pack of assholes, and we rock.
So, to the guy on the train who repeatedly called all of us assholes... you need to learn to go with the flow. Yes, it sucks. Yes, it was insanely frustrating. Yes, we are all miserable about it. And as we all learned last night, screaming will get you nowhere. Hissy fits will make you an item of ridicule. And being an asshole isn't always a bad thing. But you ... just wow.
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