 |
| Read only if you have a bunch of time to kill. It's only head-thoughts that don't amount to a hill o' beans. Your life will be no better, and no worse, for having read this. ..HJ Musings of a Morning Commuter By HeyJude Unlike some people, I actually like my morning commute to work! It's fun and it's an exercise in amateur psychoanalysis. Let me explain... First of all, I love driving my vehicle. It's a stickshift, and I just love to shift. Always have and always will (I think). It makes me feel like I am driving a racecar. There is, I think, a whole psychology to why some people just love to shift. I haven't figured it out yet... I just know it is so. I think it has to do with this need to keep the mind active and the hands and feet busy. Or it could be that such people would otherwise fall asleep while driving! I also like that my vehicle sits up kind of high. It gives me the feeling that I have control over my morning drive... which, by the way, could be symbolic of having control over my life. It's not so, but sometimes the illusion is good 'nuf. Since I drive alone to work, I can put on any CD that I want. Nobody is telling me to turn it down. My stereo speakers sound really good. So when it's "my" music and the volume is on High, life is good! I am, once again, "in control". Or at least I like to think so. I avoid the freeways and take the surface streets down 24th Street past those quaint little houses in the Curtis Park area. I believe in taking the scenic route when possible... kind of like the old cliche of stopping to smell the roses. Except I don't stop and there are no roses, but you know what I mean, right? When I pass the DMV on 24th Street, the crossing guards are always there to stop traffic so the pedestrian State workers can cross. The guards are interesting... they take their jobs so seriously. I think they just take their time letting cars go by after the people have crossed because it gives them a feeling of having control over us. That's OK. I let them. If it makes them feel good, it's OK with me! I always smile at them. They may even "know" me by now, as they see me almost daily. I think I might even start waving at them. Maybe they won't make me wait so long after people have crossed. I arrive at the Light Rail station on 23rd and Q Streets and look for a space. I don't mind parallel parking.... it's a challenge to see if I can get it right on the first try. I love my big mirrors. It helps me park right next to the curb. When I do it right, I feel like I've conquered it! (Cheap thrill, I know, but hey it hurts no one, ok?) After conquering my parking space, I put on my makeup.... takes me less than 10 minutes. (I don't put on makeup while driving anymore.) If I'm running late, I hold off on the lipliner and take care of it while I'm waiting for the train. I have this ability to put on my lipliner anytime, anywhere using no mirror (and do so perfectly, I'm told by people who have seen me and seem pretty amazed). This "skill" comes in handy when I'm driving, but I try not to do that anymore, ever since the time I grabbed a black eye pencil instead of a lip pencil and made black lips! OK, once I'm presentable, I gather my stuff, lock the car, and proceed toward the Light Rail station. It's funny... people want to look at you, but they can't do that if they think you will see them. So they look only when they think you don't see them doing it. But they don't know (or don't care) that I really do see them with my peripheral vision. Or... I can "feel" it when someone is looking at me. But it's OK that they know I know they were looking at me, as long as they were being subtle. I know... silly, but it's an unwritten code of sorts. Occasionally, someone sitting on the bench will actually say hello (probably because they can "feel" me smiling at them... if they look up, I say hello), but most of the time no one looks at anyone else. I like to wear shades, as that gives me the freedom to look at anyone I want and (hopefully) they don't know it. When the train arrives, there is the ritual of choosing which car I will ride in. I quickly scan the cars, looking for which one has the most empty seats or the fewest weird looking people. Once I embark onto the train, there is this quick process of selecting a seat. Now, that is a complicated deal which is all done within about 5 seconds. That's not much time for so many decisions to make! First, I scan the whole car to see what choices of empty seats there are to pick from. Eliminate any where I'd have to share a seat with by anyone who looks like they might smell. I hate getting nauseated that early in the morning. Eliminate any seat where the person is babbling to themself and nobody is listening. Eliminate any seat when the person there is "large" and takes up more than their share of the seat. I don't want to sit where the side of my upper leg is touching a stranger's. Eliminate any seat where there is a man who is looking at me while I am choosing my seat. That is because he is breaking the unspoken rule that you are not supposed to let anyone see you staring at them. He should just know better, that's all. People may stare for perfectly innocent reasons, but in that 5 seconds, there's no time to figure out if their reasons are "OK". So I skip them. That is, unless I have no choice, then it's not a biggee. If I find an empty seat and don't have to share, then it feels like I have hit the jackpot! Whoopee! Now these seats on the Light Rail are pairs of bench seats facing each other. You'd think that would make for friendly conversation, wouldn't you? Well, it makes for uneasiness, if anything! You are usually sitting face to face with total strangers, most of who know the rule that you're not supposed to stare. You have no choice but to either look out the window or to grab some reading material. I read the paper. Then I wonder if the person sitting next to me is stealing a glance at my paper. Sometimes I can feel them doing that, and I find it funny. And no, I don't mind. You're sitting so close to strangers that they can't help but look at your paper anyway. If someone is reading a book or writing something, I have to admit that I will steal a glance to see what it is. What kind of book are they reading? What kind of work might they do? Are they so important that they have to use every spare moment efficiently? Or did they just goof off so much that now they are under the gun to get a report done or a letter written? I wonder what they think when they see me dressed in business clothes but reading the comics. If I were looking at me, I'd think it was funny. Would they view me differently if I were reading the front page with major headlines? Or the Sports page? Why do some men assume I don't read the Sports page and ask if they can have it? I DO need to know if the Kings won, if Jason Williams is keeping himself out of trouble, or if the 49'ers are getting their act together yet. When my stop arrives, I get ready to get off. For whatever reason, this is the point when people will look at me. Why, I don't know. Is it because they wonder why I'm getting off at this stop? Is it because they wonder where I am going? Am I dressed funny? What are they thinking? Now, I should mention that most people are far enough away from me that it's OK to look. You know, it's another one of those unspoken rules. I find it funny that it's the same thing every morning! When I get off the train and wait for it to pass before I cross the tracks, I feel so ... uh, what's the word... I feel so urban. Like I'm a city gal going to my job in the big city. (Well, OK, Sacto is NOT a big city... it's just a cowtown with a bit of culture.) I feel like Mary Richards except I don't toss my hat in the air... or even wear a hat. Nothing deep here. Just the musings of a morning commuter. Off to work now... |
|