Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 32
Today, I was that girl.

I was that girl who forgot her keys, most notably the key to the work building elevator. By the time I realized my mistake it was too late to turn back.

I was that girl who bumbled down the metro station escalator while stabbing at iPod buttons with sausage-sized gloved fingers. (I was also that girl who lives in constant fear of tripping on the escalator and plummeting to a grizzly death. This fear is particularly pronounced when I wear cuffed trousers because my friend Julia once caught her heel in her pant cuff and broke her leg. I had sympathy pains until her cast was removed). Sufficiently frustrated, I tore off the glove, made a few more accurate stabs and shoved the stupid thing in my purse.

My arrival at the train platform was accompanied by the tune of the three-note jingle just before, “The doors are closing. Please move to the center of the car.” I leapt forward and suddenly, I was that girl crushed between the closing doors.

The doors popped open and I was almost that girl who barely manages to squeeze on the train, but instead, I was that girl who trips and falls into the arms of two strangers near the doors. My embarrassed apologizes were met with exactly one knowing smile and one crusty glare.

Suddenly I was that girl who realizes too late that there are no places to hold. Then I was that wobbly girl nearly collapsing with every jolt of the train. Then I was that girl with throbbing feet, regretting the decision to pull a long-forgotten pair of shoes from the archives. And then I was that girl whose fingers were numb from pinching the metal molding around the door in an attempt to maintain balance.

Eventually I was that girl so pathetic that a stranger offers her his seat.

That girl is so annoying.

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