honky cracker: So On My Way Home... (part 1) This has all happened to you, right? You're on a train or any other sort of public transportation, and you make eye contact with someone, even for a split second. And that's it
Traveling on public transit is one of the most publicly solitary things one can experience. You have your destination. You have your mission. And everyone else is just an obstacle.
'Til one of 'em looks you in the eye.
I don't know how we found each other, but we did. Actually, I know exactly how we found each other. She was sitting down on an uptown bound train, and I walked onto it. I saw her as I was walking on. She saw me. Hello, eyes.
It's a crowded train. I grab a spot on a handrail. Change the song I'm listening to. Look through and away from all the heads and the bags and the strollers 'cuz I just want to get home. But no. I have to look up. I have to look over.
It's a game of chicken, baby. Who's gonna blink first?
Oh, she's cute. Teeny little mousey little dirty-blonde thing. Black overcoat. Looks kind of sad. Poor little thing. Who's gonna blink first?
We blink at the same time. Draw.
But we both look right back up.
Shit. We're both totally checking each other out. And we've both caught each other in the game.
I'm not blinking. She's not blinking. What are we to do?
It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. You can't talk to anyone on the subway unless you know the person. The only people who talk to strangers on subway are either drunk, crazy, or looking for money. If you don't fit into one of these three categories, then you're just a schmoe trying to get back to getting on with your life, and so is everybody else. So you leave them alone.
But you forget this all as it's running through your head, and you look up again.
She's still looking at you. You blinked. She beat you at your own game.
Which gives you a chunk of respect for someone you don't even know.
And just like that, she blinks. It's all even. 1 to 1.
So now what? The score is tied. She caught you. You caught her. You've both won and lost with and against each other. There's nothing left to hide now. Nothing to lose.
Say something? What is there to say? Nothing but hello, and most of the time, that's good enough.
Hello. The last time you tried that on a subway, you were a 22-year old premature ejaculate living in away from home and out in the real world for the second week of your adult life. You came out of that with a business card and an email address from the Hebrew League of Greater Boston. So you email, and nothing. And as your Jewish roommate at the time pointed out, "What did you expect? She's Superheeb, and your name begins with Christ."
All that runs through my head until the train stops at 23rd St.
23rd Street. Shit. This is a local train, and only the express takes me home.
I jostle for position closer to the door I need to exit from. And I look up one last time to those sad little eyes.
