Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 16
I’m in a rush, but hoping for a delay. Not for obvious reasons. Work is hectic and busy, the humidity consumes me. And most trains are brimming with passengers recently returned from summer vacations.

I hurry down escalators, careful to avoid the heel-breaking cracks, squeeze onboard and maneuver to a spot where I can keep my balance with one hand fixed. The train speeds forward. Too fast. I will the train to stop (even if it means a jolting, abrupt stop, typical of Metro drivers). We arrive at the next station. I hear the automated voice, “Doors closing, please move to the center of the car.” Too soon. Will someone please get their bag stuck in the door?

It happened the other night and the Metro driver actually got angry. He sounded like someone’s mother who “had it up to here” and said something equivalent to, “If you don’t move away from this door, we are not going anywhere. You know better than that. Don’t make me call your father.” I smile as I remember the incident and secretly hope for another episode.

Doors close. The train is moving more quickly than the usual rush hour pace. Stop, already, I think. We’re at the next station. Only 5 more stops. Come on – why no delays? Another station. And another. We pass through the busy connecting stations which are usually the culprits for delays, but no. Smooth sailing today.

Before I know it, I’m at my stop. I call my mom as I exit the station. “Wow, that was quick,” she marvels.

I know. Why are there only delays when you have somewhere important to be? And when one woman happens to think she has more right than you to be on the train so she pushes against you under the delusion the train has more space and she will actually fit?

I reluctantly replace my book in my oversized tote.

It was just getting good.