Date: 2005-02-07
To: the little engine that could
Miles today: 0.0

That story I mentioned about jumping off the train? A few days ago I had a morning appointment several towns away, and decided that taking the train there would be easier than braving Route 1, which I hate, during rush hour. I didn¢t have to be where I was going till 8:30 AM, but due to the vagaries of the train lines and schedules ¢ I needed to take a commuter rail east into Boston, two subways to another station, and a second commuter rail north out of Boston - I had to leave town at the ungodly hour of 6:19 AM. Not an exciting prospect, but I sucked it up. I got a big cup of coffee and took it with me on the train. Remember the coffee. It¢s important later. So I get the coffee and get on the train and get to South Station on time, and hit the subway. It¢s running with its usual quirks ¢ the first train I get on is heading in the right direction, but decides spontaneously to travel only one stop before ejecting everyone, so I have to wait for the next one, but that¢s par for the course on the T. I get to North Station with time to spare. I¢m not worried. I haven¢t ever switched from the subway to the commuter rail at this particular station before, though, and it turns out that the two lines are in two different buildings. No sweat. I can follow signs. I leave the subway building, and follow a sign that says: Commuter Rail Across Street ==>, with an arrow to the right. I cross the street, head right, and walk. No dice. No trains. No people. No nothing. After five or six minutes of wandering, I ask a guy walking by, who points me the right way ¢ which turns out to be, in fact, the left way - the exact opposite of the direction the sign pointed. More typical Boston. I thank him, I turn around, I go.So anyway, I finally make it to the station, but by this time ¢ I told you the coffee would be important ¢ I really have to pee. A lot. And I would have had time to stop and use the restroom at the station ¢ was, in fact, planning to do so - but I lost so much time looking for the stupid train that I only have time to buy my ticket and run onto the train. I figure the whole ride will be over in about twenty minutes. I can wait that long, right?Five minutes later, I think: I can wait. I¢ll be fine.Ten minutes into the ride, I think: Why don¢t I see a bathroom on this train? Don¢t trains usually have restrooms? I can wait ten more minutes. No, really, I can wait. Please. Fifteen minutes into the ride, I think: I can¢t wait. I might die.So the conductor is walking by, announcing a stop, and I ask her: is there by chance a restroom anywhere on this train?¢Yeah,¢ she says, ¢it¢s all the way up at the front, through five or six cars.¢ I go up to the front. Most of the cars I pass through are empty, closed off to passengers, but I can still get through them. I find the restroom. All is well. I am very happy. Until I step out of the restroom, and realize, in quick succession, three things:1. The train is stopping.2. It¢s my stop.3. I¢m too far up in the train. All the doors in these empty cars are locked. So I¢m running back through every car, stopping and pounding at every door on the way, and none of them are opening, and finally I get to an open doorway, but by this time the train is already pulling away from the station, I can see the yellow line on the platform edge start to run faster and faster, and the station receding, and I have to get off! and ¢ because there is nothing else to do! ¢ I jump.And wipe. out. on the concrete platform. Smack. Fifty or so people are all standing there staring at me, with looks on their faces like they are thinking, ¢Who are you, what is your problem, and why didn¢t you get off the train when it was NOT MOVING?¢¢I¢m okay,¢ I announce to nobody in particular, all while standing up and brushing myself off and performing the sort of elaborate goyish mime meant to convey my own amusement at the virtual L painted on my forehead, a la Zadie Smith ¢ nonchalant inventory of the scrape on my hip where I landed and the rip in my glove where I steadied myself, then coolly (or not) sauntering away and thinking, ¢And I did laundry last night *specifically in order* to wear clean pants today.¢ I¢m fine, though, apart from a bruised dignity; although, about twelve hours later, my neck and back decide they have had enough of being polite about the whole incident, and proceed to shriek in pain for the next thirty-six hours. So it goes.On the way home (less eventfully, thank God) I am waiting at Park Street to change trains and a man with a guitar is playing flamenco. It fills the air and reverberates off the curved walls. When he segues into La Bamba I envision the entire stationful of people, old and young, black and white and Asian and Hispanic, students and businessmen and grandmothers and hip-hoppers, all grabbing partners and whirling around in time to the music. I stand still, like a normal commuter, but the ghost of a smile on my face might have given me away.***When I tell this story to my mother, she says, ¢You could have been run over.¢¢No I couldn¢t,¢ I say. ¢There was a two inch gap between the train and the platform.¢¢Still,¢ she says.When I tell this story to a coworker, she says, ¢You¢re jumping trains? They do not pay us enough.¢When I tell this story to Sara, she says, ¢That¢s the best story I¢ve heard all week. I¢m so glad I called you.¢¢You¢re welcome,¢ I say.¢You are now the only person I know who has ever had occasion to use the advice that was given to me when we graduated high school.¢¢Which was?¢¢When jumping trains, remember: there is only rail and ground.¢¢I don¢t get it.¢¢Like there¢s no in-between. Don¢t hesitate. Make your decision and go with it.¢¢I did that,¢ I say, rubbing my neck. ¢Yeah you did,¢ she says. ¢I hope it was worth it.¢Sara is always good for a catchphrase. My personal favorite dates back several months:Tammy: ¢And then my hamster got sick and I had to get him put to sleep, so that was sad, and then the vet bill came and it was for forty bucks. And I mean, you know, of course I¢m gonna pay it, but still, you know, forty bucks? That¢s a chunk of money. I could do stuff with forty bucks.¢ Sara: ¢Hamster euthanasia vet bill: forty dollars. Not having to kill your own hamster: priceless.¢