My ride home today was… well, I’ll let you find the words.
The red line from the airport was boarded halfway to my stop by 4 no-way-more-than-17-year-old’s who were drunker than I have seen anyone in a long time. They commenced loudly comforting their smallest counterpart who was crying that her family hates her and that no one loves her and that’s why they lock her away. Her friends (be they male or female was difficult to tell) comforted her by telling her that they wouldn’t ask for her to get day passes if they didn’t love her. Then she was quarantined by all these people who love her soooo much while two of their party had a heart to heart about abandonment and one asked “why do you always bring this shit up when we’re drunk?” to which the other replied “because you always leave me when I’m drunk.” After they left, a lovely woman who had been kind to them chatted with me about the state of American youth, both of us with a smile on our lips, knowing that we had at least 15 years separating us but remarkably similar experiences.
Waiting the 20 minutes for the yellow line to take me home there was a very young-looking guy perching on the railing playing guitar like I haven’t heard in a while. It was beautiful, soft, rhythmic with the night. There was another guy who kept pacing and stopping nearby, clearly working up the guts to comment on my book or something (David Copperfield, which as a side note was almost perfectly in rhythmic unison with the kid playing guitar) but knew in his heart he wouldn’t get up the courage. After boarding, I sat back and listened to two strangers, one young and one old, discuss various city transportation systems.
Tonight, people on the train wanted to talk to strangers. I like that.