The train at 4:30 in the morning, though for him it was still the day before, was a stark reminder that he was now part of something else entirely than he had been before. Coming back from work and going to his home meant a lay over in the city then 10 stops to home. All in all it wan’t as bad as he’d thought.
Headphones securely plugged into his ears, he’d adjust them every couple of minutes. “These damned things never fit my ears.” He said to himself of the inner ear suction cups that held them in place. They worked good enough though. Served their purpose. Which was to drown out the drunken conversation of the riders around him. If not he’d quickly find himself hating them. Wishing they would ride in silence. And who was he to ruin their fun. They were the reason he could afford to make the move. Might as well, let them be, submerse himself in music and wind down from another day of toil.
The train lurched to a halt. One more stop til the city transition. He got up as the train took motion again, and stood in front of the door. There was a subtle anticipation that came with the wait for the last stop. This was where they all wanted to get off. Getting stuck behind four meandering drunks might have been torture. Just breaking into a full sprint when the door opened had ever been a fight not to do. “Remain, composed.” he told himself, “You can’t go running around like a lunatic through the subway.”
No matter how much energy he still had from his night’s work It just wouldn’t look cool. And eventually they’d all be waiting for the train on the next platform, what would is gain stepping achieve? No it was best to just leave ahead of everyone and walk briskly toward the next platform and wait.
It seemed like there was a lot more waiting going on these days for him. Waiting for trains, waiting for the weekend, waiting for people to get back to him, waiting for customers. Most of all waiting for change, some breaking tempest to sweep away the monotony and prove to him that life was more than a series of pauses punctuated by things he spent his time waiting for.
The platform smelled like piss. He wondered how they cleaned these things. Then he wondered, “Do they clean these things?” No matter the nose only senses change and soon the piss smell was as normal as burned tires on the highway. For a minute he missed Ohio, no maybe he just missed the highway. Mental note on a summer road trip.
Something shot out of the corner of his eye. He was extra wary this time of night, there was an adrenal reaction to everything this time of night. Every bump, every motion, stare, step and noise registered at a heightened level. He laughed, a rat. On the tracks, or in between them was drinking from a puddle. Scraping it together, just like him. The way of the rat, get the cheese, avoid the trap. Pretty much how it was going for him too.
The connecting train pulled in, the was an attention in everyone’s stature. Like a hundred zombies had smelled brains. The doors opened and he stepped in. Cozied himself in a corner and leaned back. The headphones slid out again, he cursed and adjusted them. He could hear himself breathe in-between songs.
The fireman sat down across from him. That’s what he called his man in his mind. He was not in fact a fireman in occupation, nor was he incendiary. His hair was bright orange. His serious, tired look and nearly cartoonish features made him look like a Marvel comics X-men villain. That’s when he realized, he was in New York City. Actually he had known all along he was in New York City, but it was only now that he put together that this was where the characters in the comics he read growing up lived. There was a profound moment of nostalgia for those afternoons in sixth grade reading Spider-man and X-men. Dreaming of this impossible landscape that they had their adventures in. And here was this caricature of a man across from him … the fireman. Their glances crossed either other, and they nodded solemnly. He wondered if that moment of kinship was due to them being the only two sober ones in the car.
The train stopped. Fireman got up and out. The song changed in the headphones. He heard his breath again. Another stop and he got up. The station stop was packed with people getting off and leaving the train. He could hear a shriek over his headphones but kept walking in the cluttered station. Everyone shuffled over. It was a rat running the length of the station on the platform. It run toward him and then stopped and turned. It looked like it had seen him and then changed its direction, it’s way. It turned and ran the way it had come. He ascended the stairs and made his walk home, a block from the station. Four drunks meandered in his way for the full block walk home. He got in flipped on the light and there sat toilet paper he asked his roommate to grab for him to pick up while she was out. On top of the package was a homemade peanut butter cookie.
He took off his shoes, put his bag down and sat on the bed. He ate the cookie, took a shower and went to sleep.
