SMARTJUICE

Expensive Book

"That sure is an expensive book."

I glanced down at my lap. My Contracts book was laying (lying?) there, price tag side facing up. One-hundred and ten dollars. He was right; this book was expensive.

"I know. And it's not even a fun book. It's more like I paid $110 to be tortured."

Right there I broke my rule. I make a point not to talk to people on the light rail, most of the time anyway. The commuter train is different. It is hardly ever crowded and most of the people on there are, well, commuters, so not much talking happens. But the light rail is a different animal. It is a hybrid of professionals, students, and crazy people. I will listen to other people's conversations the entire train ride, but I rarely strike up one myself. That is my time. My quiet time.

"Do you like to read?"

"Yes. Normally. This isn't fun reading though. It's interesting, but it's not fun. It's for school."

"I like to read too. I just read that book A Million Little Pieces. Have you read it? Do you know about it?"

"No, and no. Did you enjoy it?"

"It hit a little too close to home.

And right there I lied to my train companion. I knew what 'A Million Little Pieces' was. I knew it was all about drug use and addiction, etc. But I am mean, and curious. I wanted to know what his story was.

"Why did it hit so close to home?"

"It was just similar to problems I've had. What are you in school for?"

"I'm in law school."

"That's good. My good friend is a lawyer. He's my best friend. He just had a big birthday party."

"Was it fun?"

"Not really. He got really mad at me."

"Why did he get mad at you?"

"Because I was trying to drink."

"Why would he be mad at you for trying to drink?"

See, that is why I'm mean. This man obviously has/had addiction problems, but I wanted him to tell me that. Why? I have no idea.

"I had a job interview today. At the children's hospital."

"Really, what kind of job?"

"Just a job there. I like to be around kids."

"Did it go well?"

"Probably not. I was real nervous about it, so I took two hydrocodone before I left the house."

"Oh...um, how did that work for you?"

"It's been hard to stay awake and focus."

"I bet so. Well, I'm sure the interview went well."

It was at this point where the hydrocodone must have really kicked in, because the man pretty much passed out. He would wake up every once in awhile and ask another question, but he would be asleep before I could answer. Poor man. I hope he gets it together one day.

"Um sir, excuse me. This is my stop. Where are you getting off at?"

"Lovers."

"Well, that's the next stop. The very next one. Stay awake until the next stop, okay?"

It wasn't until I reached my truck when I realized this man still had to get from the station to his home.

I'm hoping he slept it off in his car.

Hands

I normally don't like to talk on the phone while I'm on the train. [By the way, I take a commuter train to school everyday. Why I have never mentioned this is beyond me, because I have about a million and two stories about the crazy people I encounter daily.] When you have phone conversations on the train, people will listen to you. Sometimes they will make comments about your conversation. Sometimes, if they are bold enough, they will give you advice about what you were just talking about. So, I tend to make my phone calls in the privacy of my truck, or my apartment, or in Target, which is much more private than the train. But my phone rang, and it was a friend I had been playing phone tag with for some time. And I was almost to my stop anyway, so I answered my phone and moved to the front of the train and stood in the stairwell. Partly because I thought this was the courteous thing to do. Partly because it was the only space that wasn't crowded. [Thank you soaring gas prices for making more people ride the train...now, could you make more of them wear deodorant?]

So as I stand there, minding my business and trying to talk quietly, an older woman comes and stands near me at the top of the stairwell. She then proceeds to take out this big napkin and uses that to grip the pole near the stairwell. So right away I can tell she is one of those crazy germophobic people who don't like to touch anything. [Sorry if you are one of those people. I am not. Germs build immunities, I say. Also, see this. I know. Ew.] This itself was no big deal. The next stop was approaching, so I'm sure the woman wanted to get closer to the exit so she could get away from the germ-infested train quickly. It's what happened next that made everything go downhill.

There was this younger man standing behind the woman, and I guess he wanted to get her attention. He must have lightly tapped the woman on the shoulder or something, which is what normal people would do in that situation. But this was not a normal situation, so the tapping did not go well. I'm assuming this is what happened, because I wasn't privy to the tapping. All I know is that I was talking to my friend and then I was suddenly in the middle of all of this.

Woman [quietly and under her breath]: stop touching me.

Man [continues to tap]: Excuse me, Ms?

Woman: I said stop touching me!

Me [to friend on phone]: Ummm....I may need to let you go.

Man [still tapping]: Ms., I really like your key chain.

Woman: Get your hands off of me. Get them OFF!!!

My Friend: What's going on?? What is happening?

Me [to friend on phone]: Umm...errr...hard to say.....keep holding...

Man: I'm sorry ma'am. I just wanted to talk to you about...

Woman: STOP touching me!

Friend: Are you touching someone one??

Me [to friend on phone]: What?? Am I touching someone?? Do you think I'm standing here talking to you while simultaneously molesting people on the train??

Friend: Well, I'm making up my own scenario in my head. You should probably stop touching them now.

Man: Ms., this is a misunderstanding. I just wanted to tell you...

Woman: KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!!!

Friend: Yeah Matt, keep your hands to yourself.

Me [to friend on phone]: Shut up.

[Train stops. Woman rushes by me, being extra careful NOT to touch me. Man stands there confused while the rest of the train just looks at him.]

Me [to friend on phone]: Okay, we're good now.

Friend: Only you would get caught in the middle of a molestation incident on public transportation. I'm beginning to think your main reason for riding the train is that it gives you good stories to tell.

Me [to friend on phone]: Yeah, cause being around this many crazy people every day is worth all the good stories. Believe me....it's not.

But it is. It really is.