On the Skytrain tonight, two scenes.
To my right a group of young coked out hipsters are being loud and obnoxious, heedless of the others on the train. A woman and her mother are sitting across from me. I'd offered them a friendly smile when I sat down they returned it. The woman wears an elegant flower print dress carries a bird of paradise bouquet in her lap. She gives me the incongruous impression of an opera singer returning home form a well received performance. On the Skytrain. The boisterousness of the hipsters causes the pair of them to move to the other end of the train. "I've had enough of this." I hear her say as she gets up to move.
At the next stop the door to my left, on the other side of the train opens and a drunk and angry young man in a hoodie and basketball shorts enters. Before he steps on he yells "...fucking bitch!" down the platform at someone unseen. As the train pulls away he leans back against the plexiglass partition beside the door and slides down to sit on the floor, half blocking the doorway. He is facing away from me towards the woman with the flowers. I look over at her and she lifts her hand to your mouth in the international sign for drink. I nod, my expression wry.
Suddenly my attention is captured by the hipsters to my right who have gathered around the only female of the group, a young blond woman who is too drunk and strung out to even sit in her seat properly. She keeps sliding off like melted ice cream from atop a cone. The boys point and laugh and make jokes. I watch, wondering what, if anything, I needed to do; what I could do. Wondering how anyone could find amusement in such a pathetic scene. My relief is great when, at the next stop, the girls boyfriend takes her off saying "I'm taking her home." One of his asshole friends yells "Drugs!" after them.
On the left side the woman with the flowers also gets off, but before she does she bends down to hand the drunk young man a tissue, which he takes to blow his nose. He's been crying I realize. She speaks some kind words to him "Only 5 more stops," I hear her say, but everything else is drowned out by the noise from the other end of the car. As she steps gracefully from the train in my heart she becomes a saint.
Two stops later I stand in the doorway waiting for the doors to open. I look down at the crying young man. As the doors open he looks up at me, eyes red, nose running, and I say "You alright?" When he nods, weakly, I offer him a fist bump before stepping off, because I may be no saint, but I do know which side I'm on.
To my right a group of young coked out hipsters are being loud and obnoxious, heedless of the others on the train. A woman and her mother are sitting across from me. I'd offered them a friendly smile when I sat down they returned it. The woman wears an elegant flower print dress carries a bird of paradise bouquet in her lap. She gives me the incongruous impression of an opera singer returning home form a well received performance. On the Skytrain. The boisterousness of the hipsters causes the pair of them to move to the other end of the train. "I've had enough of this." I hear her say as she gets up to move.
At the next stop the door to my left, on the other side of the train opens and a drunk and angry young man in a hoodie and basketball shorts enters. Before he steps on he yells "...fucking bitch!" down the platform at someone unseen. As the train pulls away he leans back against the plexiglass partition beside the door and slides down to sit on the floor, half blocking the doorway. He is facing away from me towards the woman with the flowers. I look over at her and she lifts her hand to your mouth in the international sign for drink. I nod, my expression wry.
Suddenly my attention is captured by the hipsters to my right who have gathered around the only female of the group, a young blond woman who is too drunk and strung out to even sit in her seat properly. She keeps sliding off like melted ice cream from atop a cone. The boys point and laugh and make jokes. I watch, wondering what, if anything, I needed to do; what I could do. Wondering how anyone could find amusement in such a pathetic scene. My relief is great when, at the next stop, the girls boyfriend takes her off saying "I'm taking her home." One of his asshole friends yells "Drugs!" after them.
On the left side the woman with the flowers also gets off, but before she does she bends down to hand the drunk young man a tissue, which he takes to blow his nose. He's been crying I realize. She speaks some kind words to him "Only 5 more stops," I hear her say, but everything else is drowned out by the noise from the other end of the car. As she steps gracefully from the train in my heart she becomes a saint.
Two stops later I stand in the doorway waiting for the doors to open. I look down at the crying young man. As the doors open he looks up at me, eyes red, nose running, and I say "You alright?" When he nods, weakly, I offer him a fist bump before stepping off, because I may be no saint, but I do know which side I'm on.
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henryetta:
hahahahahahahahaha YES!
issue_:
ooo..tricky tricky. definitely need to learn to forgive myself. 