Quotes

To the folks on the train that love Monty Python... you kinda rock.

So, last night was yet another night of crazy train delays on the part of New Jersey Transit.  Apparently, when it gets hot the power to the train lines is affected and the trains can't run.  You'd think that, having run trains in NY/NJ for the last 40+ years, Amtrak and NJT would be prepared for hot weather, but you would be wrong.

They are not prepared.  For anything.

Last night, after waiting for almost an hour with all the other cranky New Yorkers, they announced the track for the express train, and subsequently cancelled the local.  About ten minutes later (always efficient) they announced that the express would be making all local stops, so about 3 trains worth of people ran and scrambled and pushed and shoved their way onto the train. It was a hoot.

I ended up on a double-decker train standing on the stairs leading up along with 4 other people, while the stairs leading down were also packed (but those folks were awfully cranky).  Everyone was hot as the air was minimal, and obviously in a bad mood, though some more than others.

After about 10 minutes of people trying to prove that they could fit into the already packed car and failing miserably, they closed the doors, leaving us hot and sweaty and cranky and close.  Too close.  They proceeded to leave us shut in the train for more than 20 minutes with no movement, no air, no idea what was going on.  Yeah, it was a hoot, alright.

I ended up standing on the stairs with a friend from the jitney, and we were chatting amiably about books and other things, giggling and trying to keep it light.  There was no sense indulging in the angst for that would have only made us, and everyone around us, more miserable. The chick below us on the lower stairs, however, was terribly annoyed that we were not as annoyed as she. While chugging her 20oz Budweiser, she stood on the lower steps cursing up a storm, predictably making certain people around her cranky, and just reveling in her pissiness. 

With great effort we, as a group, tried to ignore her.

On the wall across from us was a large poster that quickly caught everyone's attention.  It was a poster for Finlandia butter and there, staring every hungry one of us in the face, was a muffin with yummy butter on it.  Really, yummy butter.

 

The discussions about food began to inundate the crowd.  We were all hungry and late for dinner, so these snippets of conversation were not going over well with my very upset, beer guzzling neighbor and those in similar states of cranky.

I was on my way to a friend's house for Taco Monday and the muffin was not helping things, so I decided to try and focus on something else, anything else.

The word Finland stuck in my head, staring at me from the poster. 

Finland.

Finland. 

There's a song there.  I know that song.  I suddenly sang, "Finland, Finland, Finland..." not too loud, but not under my breath either.  (Sometimes these things just burst out of me and I can't help it). 

"The country where I want to be..." wafted quietly across the train car from a man at the bottom of the steps.  We just looked at each other and burst out laughing.  There were some smiles from other people as well, but most just looked at us like we had three heads. 

Suddenly, "It doesn't look like a killer rabbit to me..." came from the lower deck.

Then, "I fart in your general direction!" from the vestibule near us, complete with terrible French accent.

Now people were finally catching on and laughter was beginning to be contagious.  

"This parrot is dead!"

"One more wafer..."

"Bring out your dead!"

"Albatross!!  Albatross!!"

There were about 6 or 7 of us tossing Monty Python quotes about and laughing, just trying to remove ourselves from the situation at hand.  

The cranky chick was practically apoplectic.

Finally, after a moment of silence, a guy near the door said, "I'd do a silly walk but I think these people would kill me."

That did it.  Everyone burst out laughing, giggling, sighing, sharing the moment. 

Everyone, that is, except the very cranky, beer guzzling chick on the lower steps.  She was not happy that we weren't unhappy.  Not happy at all.  She was more upset by the fact that we were laughing than she was about being stuck in a metal tube with a thousand other people and no air.

After a string of cursing us and our intimate parts, the silly walk guy said, "Oh, lighten up.  We're all in the same boat and we might as well make the best of it."

Just then the doors opened up due to a passenger emergency, because that's what happens when you stuff three trains worth of people into one train for 20 minutes with no air, passengers pass out and have emergencies.  Our cranky neighbor led a charge to exit the train, invectives trailing behind her along with several other unhappy travelers who decided to try their luck elsewhere.  

About two minutes after that the doors closed and we left the station, but now with slightly more room and a feeling of camaraderie. 

As we made it to our respective destinations, we Monty Python fans said goodbye to one another, wished each other luck, and smiled.  

What could have been the ride from hell turned into a crowd effort to maintain sanity by a group of nerds, and it was lovely.  

So, to the folks on the train that love Monty Python... Thank you for joining in the moment, for making light of a difficult situation, for letting your nerd flags fly on a typical New Jersey Transit nightmare ride.  It wasn't fun, per se, but it was entertaining and it definitely took our minds off of the fact that we were packed in like sardines.

Also, you kinda rock.

Grumpy

To the guy on the train who yelled at me this morning... you can go right ahead and kiss my ass.

I am a fairly friendly person.  I chat with strangers all the time, smile at people I run into on the street (that's a literal "run into" not a figurative one), and am generally pleasant whenever possible.

I have my days, of course, that pleasant is the last thing I can be, but I try.

When I get on the jitney, which takes me to the train, I usually greet the driver first.

"Good morning, Daniel!  How the heck are ya?" or something to that affect.

He usually replies with an, "I'm blessed," and a, "how are you?"

Once I utter my usual, "I'm well, thanks," I head toward my seat.  This exchange takes about ten seconds, enough time for me to walk up the 4 steps of the bus.

I then say, "Morning, everybody," as I make my way down the aisle.

Some mornings I get a semi-enthusiastic, "Morning," from my fellow jitney travelers.  Some mornings I get a staccato, "Morning," that comes in unison and reminds me of a kindergarten class saying, "Good-mor-ning-Miss-Gren-fell," in their very tired morning voices.

But most of them at least say something.

The other night as I was taking the jitney from the train toward home, a woman stopped me and introduced herself.

"I'd just like to say how much I appreciate that you say 'Good morning' to everyone when you get on the jitney each day.  It's just so nice."

I didn't really know what to say to her so I just said, "Oh, thanks."  Totally lame response, I know, but it's what I said.

We proceeded to chat all the way to my stop and we smile and wave when we see each other in the evenings now.

This morning, however, was a different story.

Daniel and I did our usual routine, with the "How the heck are ya?" and the "Blessed."

As I turned to head down the aisle I hear a man say, "Oh, here it comes."  He even rolled his eyes.

I looked right at him and said, "Morning, everyone."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, clearly cranky.

The people sitting around him all looked at me like, "Who the hell is this guy?"

I looked back like, "No idea."

We all rode the rest of the way to the train in relative silence, smiling at the new passengers and listening to our music.

At the train station the eye rolling man approached me.  He just marched right up to me and stood there, looking.

"Hi," I said, thinking that this would be his cue to speak.

He just stood there, looking at me.

I went back to my music and tried to ignore him.  He was, it seems, trying to figure out exactly what to say to me.

"You know... you don't have to say good morning every day. I mean... it's a little ridiculous."

I just looked at him nonplussed.

"Well," said I, "I'm sorry that you find it ridiculous, but I'm going to keep saying it every day.  You don't need to listen."

"Are you effing kidding me?" (except he said the whole word).  "You mean I have to keep listening to you? Every damned day?"

"Yup.  Every.  Damned.  Day.  And I suggest you switch to decaf."  Then I smiled at him.

He stormed away as the man standing near us during this exchange said, "What a douche."

I couldn't agree more.


Tomorrow as I get on the bus I will make sure to look for this guy.  I will look him dead in the eyes and say, "Good morning, everyone!" in my most chipper way.  This jerk will not stop me.

So, to the guy on the train who yelled at me this morning... Pucker up, friend, 'cause you can go right ahead and kiss my ass.

Rudeness

To the lady on the train that doesn't know how to speak to people... unfortunately you are not the only one.

Lately I've been noticing a stunning lack of courtesy among my fellow travelers.

Mostly it's the little, annoying things that irk me. Like the person standing in front of the steps, blocking the path and when someone says, "Excuse me," they lean about an inch out of the way. 

I'm sorry, but no one is one inch wide, nor can any human above the age of 1 fit through a space that small. Also, you know you're standing right in the way of anyone that needs to get to a seat - there is no reason to huff and puff that you had to lean your one inch out of the way.

Or the people that pile all of their things on the seat next to them so that no one will sit there, then proceed to complain and heave and sigh when someone asks them to move their stuff.  You're not special - you don't get a two or three person seat all to yourself.  Get over it.

And the people who sit idly by and watch as someone is struggling to put their things on the rack above the seats.  This morning, a totally polite man walked almost the length of the train car to help an elderly woman get her carry-on up on the rack, while everyone close to her simply sat and watched her struggle.  Would it kill you to help someone out?

Or the women who settle in to their seats only to begin to apply their face for the day, either poking their neighbor in the ribs or causing fits of sneezes as their powder puffs into the air.

Or the men who sit with their legs spread so wide that they seemingly have a basketball where their genitals should be. 

Not to mention the nail clippers, farters, gum smackers, too-much-perfume wearers, etc.

I've been scoffed at for saying, "Bless you," after someone sneezes, huffed at for being where I am at any given time, chuffed at, yelled at, poked, prodded, manhandled, and more, by less than courteous people. 

I try to speak to people courteously, smile, acknowledge them, say "thank you," and "bless you," and all of those things.  Some days I'm too wrapped up in my own drama to think past myself, days that I am less than courteous.  I try, though.

Some people, however, take a sharp right at Lack-of-Courtesy and head straight on into Rudeness.

This morning we were sitting snugly in a four-seats-facing-each-other seat, a man on my left, a woman directly across from me, and another man across the aisle. The woman, of course, had her stuff on the 4th seat on our side so that no one else could sit there.

The man next to me had his headphones in and his music playing fairly loudly.  I could hear it through my own music, but it didn't particularly bother me as our music oddly matched and created an entirely new kind of song.

The woman across from me, all spread out and important, didn't like it.  This was her prerogative, and she had every right to ask him to turn it down a little. 

Unfortunately, she doesn't know how to speak to people.

"Ummmm... I can't listen to your music," said she.

"I'm sorry?" said he.

"I can't listed to your music!" said she.

"Wow... OK..." said he. He begrudgingly turned down his music, his attitude shifting to match his sudden bad mood.

She then huffed and chuffed in her seat due to his attitude toward her. 

I couldn't believe how she spoke to this guy.

"You know, there's a better way to say that," said I.

"Ex-cuse me?"

"There's a better way to say that.  Had you simply said 'would you mind turning down your music' I'm sure he would have complied with no attitude."

"She's right," piped in the man across the aisle.  "Now there's all this tension because he's offended at the way you spoke to him, and you're offended at his attitude toward you.  If you had asked him politely it would have been a nothing moment."

"Very true," said the man behind him.

"I can't believe you!  How dare you chastise me when he was the one playing his music too loud!"

"Yes, but you were the one that was rude," said the man across the aisle.

We all shared a moment, the man across the aisle, the man behind him, and me.  We shook our heads in acknowledgement and returned to our books/music/paper/Candy Crush.

The woman across from me fidgeted for a while, still huffy about the exchange.

The man next to me, the offender with the loud music, simply sat in thought for a while.  Finally he looked at me with a most peculiar expression.

"Thank you.  That meant a lot."

"I'm sorry she was so rude to you," I said.

"Yeah, man, me too," said the guy across the aisle.

"You'd think I would be used to it by now, but it still pisses me off," said the man next to me.

"Why would you be used to it?" I asked, oblivious.

His face blank, he looked at me for a long moment.

"I'm black," he said, so matter-of-factly.

The woman across from me jerked her head up at this, looking at him with the most alarmed expression.  I could feel the attention on him: mine, hers, even the man across the aisle was intent on the scene.

Finally, her face softened and she squeaked, "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said it like that," in the smallest voice she could muster.

"Thanks," he said.

I could tell that she hadn't thought about how he would personalize what she said, how it would resonate with him.  I don't think she meant it that way, especially because of the look on her face when she realized how he had taken her words, but that is the way he perceived her because of them. She was simply having a bad morning and she was so wrapped up in herself that she didn't take a moment to think of courtesy when speaking.  That's all.

But that's enough.  Enough to offend someone, set someone off.  Enough to upset bystanders, total strangers who also didn't realize how he would personalize her words.

I was just upset at how rude her words were, I didn't factor in that he would see it as racism. Nor did the man across the aisle, it seemed.

Our words can have a profound effect on people in ways that we can't imagine.  We don't know their perspective, don't know what it takes for them to get out of bed in the morning, to face the world each day.  We don't know where they've come from, where they're going.  We couldn't possibly know.

But if we could take an extra five seconds and speak to people with courtesy, no matter the mood that we are in, it could change not only the way that we see the world, but the way the world sees themselves.  For if they are worthy of courtesy from a stranger, they are worthy of other things as well.

And so are we.

So, to the lady on the train that doesn't know how to speak to people... thank you for demonstrating this to me today. Your words carried unintended messages to those around you and I gained some new perspectives.  I know that you didn't mean for your words to land the way they did, I know you were greatly offended that I chimed in, and I'm sorry that I offended you.  But from now on I will try to speak with courtesy no matter what my own mood is at the time, no matter how difficult it may seem.

Imagine how the world would look if we all could do this, all the time. 

You spoke to someone today without courtesy and almost ruined a stranger's day.  You had not idea how your words would hurt, and unfortunately you are not the only one.

Wow.

To the drunk people on the bus after the wedding... I think I might be old.

When I was a kid, especially in college, I did some crazy things.  I did things that make me grateful that we didn't have camera phones and the Internet.  My friends and I had some grand adventures, did some stupid things, drank a little too much, played a little to hard.  We were in college and we acted like it.

But we took care of each other.  We never allowed someone to do something that they might regret in the morning, if we could help it.  We knew each others limits and we had no problem dragging someone away from a party when they went too far, physically if necessary.

It was a lesson I learned well my freshman year when I went visiting some high school friends at their University.  It's a night that I still can't remember, and I don't know what happened, not really.  I can guess, but I'll never know. It was so very out of character for me, but hey, I was in college, right?

When I returned to my own school, to the family I found in college, I realized that they, that we, would never let that happen to each other.  Without ever having to say a word. We had a tacit understanding that we would protect each other, and we still do. My New York family as well.  My tribe will always have my back, just as I have theirs.

What I witnessed happening around me this weekend after a wedding left me reeling, not only because it was so outrageous, but because it happened on my lap.

The wedding party had been shuttled around all day in a party bus, complete with disco lights, loud music with a great sub-woofer, and lots of beer.  It was a hoot and I thought, "This is a great idea!"  I could only imagine my tribe and I rolling around in one of those.

Our bus had rails along the ceiling to keep people from falling over while dancing as the bus was moving, but it looked really similar to this picture.

After the reception the party bus was used to transport the last of the revelers back to the hotel.  Some of the wedding party was on the party bus, but most of the occupants were simply guests at the wedding. Most of them were friends of the bride and groom, all in their late twenties.

And they were drunk.

Very.

I was seated directly across from my friends, her sister and sister-in-law seated very nearby. We were crowded in there with no place to go, a stranger on my right and a couple on my left.  She was sitting on his lap due to a lack of space, or so I thought.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the couple on my left, though I did notice her leaning on me quite a bit.  I just thought it was lack of space and too much alcohol, so I didn't think much at the time.

Then I saw my friend's face.

His mouth agape, eyes the size of dinner plates, he was staring at the couple on my left.  So was his wife.  So was everyone else on that side of the bus.

I finally glanced over only to see the couple making out.  No big deal, right?  Then I noticed that her skirt, which when standing was barely covering her cookie, was up around her waist and his hand was down her dress.  It was a bit much.

Suddenly she came up for air, handed her phone to a guy standing near, and said, "Take my picture!" before diving back into her make-out session.

Incredulous, the guy said, "You want me to take a picture of this?"

We were flabbergasted.

Next thing we know she is giving this man, who she apparently didn't know, a lap dance on a professional level.  Everyone's jaw was on the floor, eyes wide, looking at each other like, "Is this actually happening?"

At this point the two of them are making out again, and he actually began to lay her out across my lap.  I moved away a bit, but they kept on coming.  The music was so loud, the sub-woofer going like gangbusters, we could barely hear ourselves think let alone hear each other. But, there they were, splayed across me going to town.

All I could do was laugh.

No one on our end of the bus seemed to know who this girl was, or who her people were.  She was just putting on a show for the crowd.

They finally removed themselves from my lap, but only because she was back to lap dancing again. 

"I'm old!" came from someone at the front of the bus. We were just so dazed by this display all we could do was nod in agreement.

This girl was totally out of control.

She eventually moved away to dance in the middle of the bus, her erstwhile lap dancing partner forgotten for the moment. He followed soon after, though.

As we emerged from the debauchery of the party bus we tried to find out who this girl was.  It turns out that she was a friend of the bride who, and I quote, "Is a really nice person usually, she just gets out of control when she's drunk."

Really?  Then why does anyone let her drink?

She faced a lot of ridicule that night, and was the subject of much discussion the next morning at breakfast, but all I could think about was her people.  Where were they?  Why did no one that knew her, that knew she gets this crazy when drunk, why didn't they keep an eye on her?

Where was her tribe?

Had that ever been me, my people would have snatched me right out of there, plopped me in the corner, and force fed me water and crackers until I sobered up enough to get into my room. Alone.

Her people just sort of aw-shucks and that's-just-her and what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it responded.

Which made me feel old.

No one her age seemed to give a rats ass that she was that out of control, giving Elizabeth-Berkley-In-The-Pool lap dances to a guy on a party bus filled with strangers.

I was, and continue to be, completely baffled by the whole thing.

Some guilt drifted in the next day as well, though, as I thought about that girl and that party bus. Knowing how I feel about the night that I can't remember, perhaps I should have done something.  Perhaps I should have stepped in and stopped it. 

Then again, as drunk as she was, there probably wasn't much I could have done not being one of her people, not knowing her at all.

I still feel guilty, though. And old.

And I feel a little sorry for her that she doesn't have people like mine, a tribe that would never let that happen to each other.

Mostly, though, I feel old.

So, to the drunk people on the bus after the wedding... I hope you find a tribe someday.  I hope you never have a night that you can't remember, a night that haunts you.  I hope that you don't regret what you did this weekend, and I'm sorry that I didn't help you.  And mostly, I hope that other people your age aren't as crazy as  you were on that bus or the future is in some trouble. 

Also, I think I might be old.

Ballet Barre

To the lady on the train that was living in her moment... I'm sorry I laughed, it really wasn't you.

As we were waiting for the train to pull in this morning I noticed a woman standing by the fence, her back to me.

I noticed her because the people walking by were gesturing behind their shoulders in that "did-you-see-that-crazy-person?" kind of a way.

So I noticed her.  And once I did, I couldn't look away.

She was probably in her late 40's and a little weathered.  She was dressed in very normal jeans and a top, tennis shoes, hair in a pony tail.  At first glance there was nothing "crazy-person" about her.

She was just a woman, standing along the fence.

Then she started to dance.  She was doing what I think was a ballet barre routine, though it looked nothing like any ballet barre I had ever done.  She was all elbows and knees, broken lines and sickled feet.  She didn't have ballet barre etiquette either as, when she turned around, she turned away from the barre rather than toward it. (It made my teeth hurt a little when she did that - Mark would have had my head).

Then I saw her face: complete joy and abandon.  She didn't care a hoot that people were "did-you-see-that-crazy-person?" gesturing at her, not one bit.  She was just enjoying her morning barre.

A smile lighting her face, all elbows and knees, she carried on as if she were alone in the studio. She was tendu-ing and frappe-ing along with some inner music that I couldn't hear, which was a little disconcerting as the music in my headphones didn't match at all.

I was enjoying her joy so much that I wanted to be a part of it.  So, I decided to search for the music that she was hearing in her head.  I pulled my iPod out from my pocket and began to fast-forward until I could find the song that matched her rhythm.

It wasn't The Imperial March which was too slow, or Seven Seas of Rhye which was to fast. The Tulsa Turnaround was too funky and Some Kind of Wonderful just wasn't right. On and on I clicked, finding some that were almost right, but nothing that paired her cadence.

Then, just as she looked my way, a song came on that matched her perfectly. I knew within a few notes that this was the song, this was the rhythm I was looking for.

It couldn't possibly have been the song in her head, as it was by no means as ballet barre kind of song, but it was just so perfect.

Bad luck, that's all it was... bad luck that she happened to look me right in the eyes as this song filled my headphones and I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it and I didn't mean to, but the laughter just flew out of me.

She didn't look terribly hurt, she was enjoying herself too much for that, but she did register my laugh thinking it was about her.  And it did upset her a little.

My father taught me that the best defense is a good offense so I walked over to her, still laughing because it was still funny, and I said, "Hi. I'm Katy..." I explained my enjoyment and my quest to find the song to match and she seemed a bit mollified.  When I told her what song actually matched her rhythm, the laughter burst from her as well.

Together we chortled and boarded the train.  Each time our eyes met on the journey we giggled at our shared moment. I felt much better knowing that she understood my laughter and that it wasn't directed at her. Well, not directly at her anyway.

Oh, the song?  It was Sit On My Face by Monty Python.

So, to the lady on the train that was living in her moment... I'm sorry I laughed, but how could I not? That song is hilarious on its own, but when you add a ballet barre filled with elbows and knees first thing in the morning, I didn't stand a chance.  I'm so sorry, it really wasn't you.

Fantasy lives

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.

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.