Behind the Clouds

I crammed myself into the back of the Number One today, and checked my watch without much hope of good news. Just as I suspected time had not, in fact, started running backwards and I was going to be late to my CPR recertification class.

I reached into my bag to pull out my ipod and found that I had left it along with my cell phone on my bedside table. Sighing, I continued rummaging and came up with some reading material at the bottom of the bag: a folded up bulletin from the 8pm Mass at St. Clem's last night. Father Peter is usually a pretty engaging story teller, so I dug in, searching for his column.

"I know you," the man jammed into the seat next to me said. "You work at McInnis House."

I recognized his face, but not the name he gave me, and we chatted a bit as we rode.
 He's doing well, he reported, still in a treatment program, and still sober as a result.  "I gained some weight," he pointed out, "but it's better than the lifestyle I was living."  He  really feels like he's been successful in restarting his life. He asked me to say hello to "everyone over there" from him.

We fell into a comfortable silence. I finished reading Father Peter's column. I looked up and saw that we had a bunch of Mass Ave left to cover.

"I wish it were more sunny out," I remarked.

In the interest of full disclosure, I don't know why I said it. I actually don't mind cloudy days at all. In retrospect, had it been any more sunny out I also would have been upset about leaving my sunglasses on the kitchen counter.

He responded sincerely, "The sun is out, you know." And he smiled.

I know it looks like some Chicken Soup for the Sick Sad Soul written out here, but there was nothing trite about the way he said it. Instead, it was the truest thing I had heard all day.
Why had my go - to space filler in conversation been a complaint anyway?
A soft complaint, but a complaint nonetheless. How often do I do that and not even notice?

"You know the serenity prayer, right?" he asked me.  I said I did, but when he paused and I didn't recite it, he recited it instead. We both smiled.  He told me to take that thought with me for when my day wasn't going the way I wanted.

"You can restart your day whenever you want," he pointed out.

And I guess, of all people I ran into today, he would know.

a week of moments like this one

Because it was there when I got off the train I took the #1 to work today.
As I sat sipping some yerba mate and reading The Metro I heard a noise that immediately made my heart sing.

I looked up at the bus ceiling, willing my eyes to adjust to the shadows of the crevices where wall met roof.

Then I realized that what I was hearing was someone playing with their ipod touch.

...not a gecko at all.

How to deal with Hospital Blues, and also Creeps on a Bus

How to deal with Hospital Blues (or How I Learned to Stop Fearing and Respect That 70's Show)
I was on the bus. I was determined to arrive at IB in a different mood than the one I left work in. Which is to say, I wanted to stop worrying about this blood pressure or that lab result and leave it at the job. Because otherwise you don't sleep. I was blasting my music accordingly. That 70's Show once had a very telling moment related to this. Before you skip it based on the source, let me tell you that this is particular clip captures a very true thing, no matter how you feel about the show. I think of this every time I leave work on a trying day. Now it's like you've read my mind. Also, the song Bad Blood is awesome.

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Creeps on a Bus (or What the Deaf Girl Heard)
So I had my headphones on, ipod blasting and was deeply engrossed in the book I am currently reading.* I did not notice the man standing in front of me. I did not hear the things he was saying. I did not see the faces he was making. Until a hand came into my field of vision and turned the page I was on.

I was genuinely disturbed. I jerked my neck up quickly and came face to face with Camilo and his lady friend.

Camilo started when I jumped. "Did you seriously not hear me the whole time?" He looked around nervously. I looked around too. Everyone on the bus was staring at us. The man across the aisle from me was leaning forward in his seat, catching every word.

"I honestly didn't," I said, "I was really involved in my book and my ipod was on too loud."**

"That's a great book," offered the man sitting behind me, "McSweeny's is good too." His voice was strained.

"I love McSweeney's," I said quickly and turned back to Camilo.

Cam began to laugh. "I was so obscene," he said, "I was creeping myself out. I've been at it for a while now." Around us, passengers visibly relaxed but did not take their eyes away.

The Dave Eggers fan said, "I turned off my mp3 player when he started talking to you so I could hear him. I was ready to jump if it got any worse."

People all around us nodded in agreement. Some laughing, some smiling, one or two still completely serious, ready to jump still maybe, unsure if things could turn sour any minute.

"You could have gotten jumped," I said to Camilo, who was laughing even harder now.

"I mean, these strangers, they might have killed you!" I was laughing too.

"I totally had your back," said one of the strangers. Everyone laughed.

Cam didn't repeat any of the things he had been saying, but he assured me they were horrible, terrible things that no one should say to anyone else (again, nods from strangers, all of them smiling by now) and he realized half way through there was no way I was just ignoring him but he couldn't just give up.

We got off the bus together at Prospect Street and Awesome Literary Critic did too. "Seriously," he said, "I would have defended you. My name is Jared." He shook hands with me and Camilo both and headed down the Red Line entrance.

It's funny, because I like to think that Jared who likes Dave Eggers would have defended me. But I'm not so sure. People are funny in threatening situations. I mean, you'd think someone would have stopped Camilo before he touched my book. If he was saying truly terrible things. But it's moot. I'd rather not need defending at all. I think maybe from now on if I'm reading then my ipod needs to be at half volume. For good measure. Thanks, creepy Camilo.

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* A re-read: Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which "deserves" its own post even though I have read it before. warning, this post will not come for a while but will be epic when it comes.
** This is why I missed my stop that very morning and had to back track on the Orange Line in the snow. Same book. Same play list.