Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 38
I awoke supremely grouchy this morning, likely due to a new up-at-5 a.m-to-run routine. Or the after-midnight bedtime I’m embracing. Or large doses of hectic-ocity (new word – use it, own it!) at work.

Or maybe my husband beat me with a decorative (though deceptively treacherous) throw pillow while I slept.

Whatever the case, I departed for work with a less-than-sunny disposition.

Luckily, my metro train came without fanfare or delay. I boarded, cranked my iPod to rocking, cracked my book and slouched into a vacant seat.

Swept away in a particularly awesome part of my particularly pleasurable read, I barely noticed when the train stopped between stations.

Then the “air conditioning” (as in air that only works under certain conditions, most often blowing cold air when it’s cold outside and hot air when it’s hot), became noticeably absent.

Huh.

I continued reading.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of someone walking through the tunnel outside the train.

Huh?

My seatmate and I swapped confused eyebrow raises.

Then a burly man in a neon yellow vest barreled through the aisle. People scattered like ants as the man hoisted a seat in the air, assessing gadgets below.

Er, huh?

Then the neon-clad man wordlessly stomped to the opposite side of the train where he twisted the screws on a wall panel displaying an ad for something like the National Association of Kites Entangled in Dumpsters (NAKED), opened the wall (?) and twisted a metal lever.

HUH???

He stomped through the door at the end of the train to the next car.

Then the train moved.

Huh.

We arrived at the next station and were forced to evacuate the train.

I stood on the platform, reading.

Suddenly my eyes froze on the page. I wasn’t annoyed or grumpy. I didn’t feel put-out or worried about whether I’d make it to work on time. I wasn’t fixated on my lack of sleep or sore legs. I wasn't concerned about the terrorists who may have been the cause of the train malfunctions. I didn’t care that I’d have to wedge myself on the next overflowing train and strain through a sea of arms for a holding place.

My sudden mood swing was as inexplicable as the yellow-vested, secret-lever-twisting, tunnel-walking burly guy. A smile crept across my face and if I had a mirror to see my own reflection, I'd say it was the most surprising thing I'd seen all morning.

Huh!

Print Page