Most surreal train story YET

Merry Christmas and Happy Kwanza to all………..

Because I have a previous theme of “commuter nightmares” posted here, I figured I’d oblige. Since I was actually on my way to finish up x-mas shopping, it doesn’t count as a true WORK commuter hell story, but as I was on the train, it will suffice. 


Ok, on Friday the 24th, the most evil shopping day of the year, I needed to finish up the shopping. (by default – I had the day off, and Sara had to work all day.) I’m efficient when it comes to train usage, so my first destination was to the Target down on south Clark St., just south of the loop, and work my way north. (not South enough to be considered “south side” – there are SOME sketchy areas, but it was 10am in the freaking morning – no fears there)

Anyway, I’m about 2 stops from my final destination, and a man comes onto the train, intentionally bumps someone exiting as he is coming on – they appear to have some words, but I can’t tell what’s said as my seat is too far and they weren’t yelling or anything. The man that was entering the train proceeds onto the train, starts walking down the aisle directly toward me. I notice he has a cigarette, and I quite possibly could have made an irritated face, I don’t remember. I fucking HATE when people smoke on the train – to me, it’s the ultimate in rude, so Smoking Guy might have seen me make said face. Who knows. All I know is he stops right next to my seat, leans over toward my face, and proceeds to exhale all of his secondhand smoke into my face, and proceeds on down the aisle (I’m too dumbfounded to speak, meanwhile), goes to the other entrance door, pulls the emergency release thing-y, the doors open, and he steps right back onto the platform. As he is walking away, and the doors are closing behind him, he passes by my window. I knock my fist against the window to get his attention, he turns to look, and I flip him off and say “FUCK YOU” --- I didn’t yell it --- who needs to? Those are the easiest words in the English language to lip-read.
Then, my heart jumps into my throat, because upon seeing me flip him off , he leaps back toward the door, trying to catch them before they slide shut --- so he could get back on the train and what? Blow more smoke? Tell me “fuck you too”? beat the shit out of a woman?
Who knows. We’ll never really know what his intention was there, as the doors mercifully slid closed.

The train pulled away from the station, with me still flipping off the entire Jackson Street stop platform.

Total elapsed time? 10 seconds – tops.

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