Life Under Construction

Todays guest post is brought to you by
Meg
from
Lost In Thought.
This is all part of the 20 Something Bloggers “Blog Swap 3“.
Don’t forget to go check out my post over on their site.

(leave some love!)

The Commute

I don’t ride the train much. I am not a commuter, and I live in a town with no transit system. Going back and forth to Toronto via train, which I maybe do every couple of months or so, is always an adventure.

I have been almost barfed on by a drunken teenage girl, trying to find her way to the washroom; I have been chatted up by random boys eight years younger then myself. I have been on the train when a group of rowdy kids pulled the emergency cord resulting in the train leaving the station approximately forty minutes later than it was intended to. I have witnessed witty conductors, conductors with a speech impediment and conductors who seemed to talk low and inaudibly for the mere purpose of confusing people.

This one time though, this time took the cake.

My friend and I were on our way back from shopping in Toronto, and it was fairly late at night because after shopping, we went out for a nice dinner. We waited for about half an hour at the train station, passing the time by eating cinnamon buns and drinking Second Cup coffee.

We chose our seats carefully, because seat placement on the train is quite important. You don’t want to be next to a group of crazies who will annoy and talking loudly the whole ride, but you also don’t want to be in a cart all by yourself in case a crazy murderer gets on that same cart and you are left to fend for yourself. The situation doesn’t even have to be that extreme; it could just be you all alone with a creeper.

You might not like sitting facing backwards, or maybe you do. Window seat or no window seat? Upper cart, lower cart? There are a whole lot of options to consider.

On that particular day we chose seats on the right side of the train next to the window in the lower car. We sat diagonally across from one another as that is often a more comfortable way to sit in terms of leg room.

The train started to move, and we relaxed into our seats for the 40 minute ride back to Oakville. Not very long after we left, I noticed this guy staring at me. Staring at me so intently, it was making me uncomfortable. I shifted down in my seat, trying to make myself less visible. I kept glancing back up at him to see if he was still staring. He was. I sunk down lower into my seat.

“What the hell are you doing?” my friend asked.

“There is a super creepy guy. He won’t stop staring at me!”

She went to turn around to look, but I kicked her.

“Don’t look! I don’t want him to know we are talking about him!”

I glanced up again. Yup, creepy guy was still staring. Barely blinking. Just boring his eyes into me. I sunk lower still so I was pretty much lying down in the seat.

“Oh my god. I’m turning around to see this guy now”

“No, dude, don’t!” I whisper shouted.

My friend ignored me and turned around, but couldn’t find him.

“Where exactly is he?” she asked, peering down at me crouched on my seat.

I sighed, “He’s pretty far back. At the very end of the next car. You’ll definitely notice him, trust me”.

“You’re crazy. I see nobody, who the hell are you talking about?”

I reluctantly worked my way back up in my seat so I could point him out to her.

“See there, at the very back?” I said, gesturing in front of me, “Behind the lady with the blue shirt and curly hair? He’s wearing a white polo”.

My friend slowly turned back around and looked at me, trying not to laugh. Several moments passed before she blurted out,

“That’s Colin Firth you fool!”

Turns out the man staring at me was Mr. Mark Darcy himself, straight outta the Bridget Jones poster that was hung at the very back of the car after ours. I don’t think we stopped laughing until we got off in Oakville. Like I said, I don’t ride the train much.

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