Another year back at school means another year of riding the light rail while avoiding eye contact and skimping on the “ticket” part of the journey.
So far, the year has gone great. I mean, someone complimented me on my longboard, after all. But the new-semester bliss took a turn last Wednesday night, while three friends and I were returning from a baseball game.
The train was crowded, so we took refuge by the doors. We were two stops away from our destination when two women ran on board. They stumbled as they entered and had to hold onto the door to stabilize themselves, while they cursed under their breaths. Even I became dizzy watching them.
One of the women, who looked like she was in her 40s, was pudgy and small with brown hair cut at her chin. The other was even tinier and much older, bent over as if the culmination of her years weighed down on her. She looked around at everyone with a wide smile, showing her missing teeth.
The carriage began to reek of booze and body odor.
As soon as the doors closed, the younger of the two turned toward us to ask in slurred words whether we had any change. I apologized and said I only carry my card.
She then turned to the car at large and yelled, “I don’t know this woman. She is lost from her friends. I am just trying to get her some food. Does anyone have change?”
As the younger woman’s attention was elsewhere, the older woman turned to us and whispered, “She’s lying.” She giggled and pressed her finger to her lips, like a little girl does when passing secrets with her best friend, and winked.
When the young woman’s plea for money went unanswered, she turned back to us to repeat the sentiment. Unbeknownst to her, the older woman in front of us also repeated her earlier statement, giggling still.
Of course we laughed. What else would you do?
The younger woman realized what her older friend was doing and raised her arms in frustration.
“Fine,” she slurred. “We want to get another drink. Does anyone have money for us to get another drink?”
But the older woman had begun to undermine her attempts again by asking us questions.
“So are you in college?” she asked, swaying from the combination of light rail and booze.
“Yeah, we are,” one of my friends replied.
“Oh, good,” she responded and clapped giddily.
She was quiet for a few seconds then asked again, “Are you guys in college?”
We looked at each other, then hesitantly responded, “Uh, yeah, we are.”
“Oh, that’s good. Stay in college,” she responded. “What are you studying?”
“Journalism.”
Her face turned sour and she began to tsk, throwing us scornful — yet playful — looks.
At this time, we arrived at our stop and got off. An elderly man got off with us and ran to the next car, making it just in time. I’m guessing he was less than a fan of the atmosphere in the previous car.
I don’t know how the two women fared, but I hope they ended up all right, mainly for the giggly woman’s sake.
