If there's one thing I learned from my years in New York it was not to talk to strangers. How quickly I forget...
Things have started to get a little awkward with my train conductor. It's just, I take the same train every evening, and after a while I noticed everyone else was friendly with him, so I decided to throw in a "hello!" or "good night!" of my own. Why not? I live in the burbs now, don't I? Perhaps it's time to start being friendlier.
But then there was that rainy evening when the train was short staffed and no announcement was made when we arrived at my stop. I looked up after a second, panicked, and noticed the doors weren't being opened. Huh? It was then that I found myself sprinting down the car, into the next one, and then the next one, bags flying, all the while being cheered on by my fellow commuters: You'd better run for it! Hurry, hurry!
I was making a total dickhead out of myself, but I didn't care. I wanted off that train! I wanted to get home! When I reached the door we were already pulling away. "Oh no, wait!" I panted in vain, "Oh, I missed my stop!" but the conductor just stared blankly at me and walked away. It was the weirdest thing ever. "You missed your stop?" a lady asked as I stared out the rain speckled train doors, pathetic and dejected.
Um, yes.
"I'm through with that conductor," I told Hubby that night. "No more hellos, that asshole is dead to me!"
Hubby's expression seemed to suggest, I'm sure he'll be very upset.
But the next day, as I was boarding the train, I decided to ask exactly which car I should sit in so I wouldn't miss my stop again. "Oh ya, you missed your stop last night, huh?" the conductor said, all smiles. "We were down a conductor, so that's why there weren't any announcements."
That night he pointed towards the exit when he passed by and made a special effort to make sure I knew when we reached my stop. A little humiliating, sure, but at least I knew I was in the correct spot.
Since then there have been many friendly Hellos! and How ah ya's? exchanged between us. I've gotten to know the faces of people who sit in my car, and among them is a woman and small child who I assumed to be his wife and daughter. He carries the little girl up and down the aisles sometimes, it's very sweet. But then a few days ago, as I was walking down the platform, I noticed the woman gave the baby to a different man to carry, and, wait a second, did she just say, "Oh, there's Bob and Jerry!" to the little girl as they passed the conductors?
That wasn't his kid at all! And now that I'm actually paying attention, it kind of seems like this woman hands her kid over to a lot of different people. Hmmm.
I'll see my conductor on the occasional morning, too, and of course we inevitably end up making eye contact. And because I've already established the precedent of acknowledging him, if I take a day off from doing it I feel like I'm being rude. These hellos have started to feel forced and expected and a little...awkward. Yes, they're definitely getting awkward. When did that happen, anyway? And when did he start smiling at me like that? Dear Lord, does this guy think I've got the hots for him or something? Me, a married mother? No, surely not, right? I carry a Medela breastpump bag with me, for crying out loud! Of course, he wouldn't recognize it as such unless he had one of his own, which, unless he is lactating, he doesn't.
Whether it's all in my head or not, I've systematically been decreasing my hello and goodbyes. When I walk down the platform, I pull out my BlackBerry so I have something to focus on. Well? I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea, do I? Jeesh.
"Have a nice evening!"





Mine will sit down next to me and make small talk if the train isn't full, sometimes for an entire train ride, sometimes while I have headphones in and a book in my lap. Commuting can be very awkward overall.
Posted by: Keely | January 11, 2012 at 02:09 PM
Haha! Oh Bubs that is awful. I think it runs in our family- that look that makes people talk to us!!!
Posted by: the odd broad | January 12, 2012 at 07:55 AM