Well, it’s Wednesday evening and we just finished having a traditional English meal of fish, chips and peas. Chan is working on homework, listening to music, and most likely checking Facebook and Rick is telling us about his encounters with his most interesting students. Today, in fact, one of his most hum, hum needy students actually brought him a Dr. Phil book that he is reading in an attempt to understand why Rick “didn’t like him”. He actually went through all of the points that would identify if he was in fact an annoying individual and he tried to convince Mr. Teather that he did not meet the criteria. Bad choice, young man, is all I can say. Very bad choice.
So, I have also been thinking about doing some short stories around characters that I encounter on the trains. There is no shortage of strange and wonderful things that happen during my morning commute and here's a sample.
There’s the silent business type that avoids eye contact with fellow passengers and either buries his or her head into the Metro newspaper or their Blackberry. They are quiet and reserved and even if there is a ruckus of impatient travellers pushing and cursing at one another because of overcrowding, they never flinch. They are like robots, really. Must check email, must read news, must get off train and head to office, must not stop. Exterminate, exterminate. If only they were as engaging as The Doctor.
Then there are the groomers. These are ladies that enjoy making a public display of themselves by either doing their makeup (now I am not just talking powdering their noses either, they are applying the entire gamut) and/or their hair. I have to say that when I women sits next to me and she pulls out her makeup bag busting with an assortment of powders, blushes, mascaras, lipstick, and oversized brushes, I start to squirm. I often wonder how it makes a man feel, if it makes me squeamish.
The third type of passenger that sticks out to me is the cell phone junkie. Their biggest fear is leaving their phones idle in their hands for an extended period of time. They have to call someone, anyone, to say someone or nothing and no matter how personal the conversation may become, fellow passengers will have the pleasure of listening to it. Why just the other day, I had to endure a woman explaining to the doctor how she yes indeed does clean her ears out, and another giving full names to a client (hope one of them wasn’t on that train), and yet another talking about her custody battle and her visits to the lawyers. Why, oh, why do you want a train full of strangers hearing these things?
So traveller four is the music enthusiast. The difference with these avid music fans on the trains from say maybe you or me, is that they assume that the rest of the world enjoys the same kind of stuff they are listening too. So much so that they have to play it at a volume that gives other commuters no choice but to listen to it line by line, bar by bar, chord by chord, bloody friggen beat by beat.
Interestingly enough, I think I have a solution for this dilemma. What if I made like I really dug the song that was blaring from the music enthusiast's head and I just got up and started boogying? Man, I wish I brought the taps shoes. Would the silent business type stop scanning the Blackberry? Would the Avon lady lay down her mascara? And would the cell phone junkie tell their caller to call back?
