I posted the other day about a couple on the train and my dawning awareness of what they were doing. A few days later, another young couple sat near me (this time on a crowded train, and actually, the woman sat next to me and the guy kind of crouched on the floor) and noticed I was playing Candy Crush (NO SHAME). “Ooh, I wanna see what level she’s on!” I heard from within my colorful daze. “Hey, I’ll play your level if you play mine for me,” the woman said, “I can’t beat it!” Later, the man looked up from his own game, paused, and said, “You know, I think the Soda version is really all about the fish.” This couple, too, bid me a pleasant good night (and good luck, literally).
Sometimes on the train you hear conversations and think, “It would be cool to have that profession.” Other times, this:
Person A: “A guy had a stroke and started bleeding and they had to cut a hole in his neck.”
Person B: —
Person A: “A kid shit on the floor and I had to clean it up.”
Person A: “A kid threw up on the floor and I had to clean it up.”
Person A: “A girl puked in the sink, and I had to clean it up!”
Person B: !!
Person A: “A guy got in a fistfight over a pizza.”
And that is why you don’t work at Chuck E. Cheese if you can help it.
I was in the dressing room at yoga last week getting ready for class when I heard the other woman in there say, “That is a SKILL” because I had just put my sports bra on from the bottom up, by stepping into it. Finally, someone appreciates the skill that seventh-grade gym class begat!
And finally, I was on the train late one night with a bunch of people, including some very dapperly dressed guys, and as I was getting off I heard their argument, which began with:
“Your toiletries bag is four times the size of mine!”
