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Wednesday, May 28th, 2008
Previously on LOST
Cripes all Friday, can I catch a break, MBTA? I just want to get home when I expect to get home, all in one piece, with my slippers, the newspaper, and a slice of apple pie waiting for me inside the front door. Instead, I ended up in the pouring rain, because God forbid something in my world doesn't set on fire for a day.
Addie's house is (fingers crossed) going to be such a convenience for me in the mornings. I can either take the very easy bus route or else walk to my internship. I got there at exactly nine o'clock, put on my nice shoes, and got straight to work. I fact checked until lunch, at which point I ate a sandwich and an apple, and, feeling healthy, took a stroll around the Charles. I didn't feel like taking a later train to come home, so I left work at 4:30 to make the 5:38.
But I'm sorry, you haven't been properly acquainted with my friend The MBTA, who has no regard for other people. Otherwise, why would he have this goofus sign on his trains: "your tax dollars pay to have this train cleaned. do your part by picking up after yourself. Thank You!" Well if my tax dollars are paying to clean this up, then like hell am I picking up after myself, because I've already done my part. But counterpoint: if I did pick up after myself, then would I not have to pay taxes for cleanup? This is the sort of circular argument that The MBTA thrives on; it's the sort of utter nonsense that explains why only some sentences need to be capitalized in his twisted world.
So although I laughed at this really stylish Asian girl's really stylish handmade t-shirt ("MEMORIES / EDGAR STYLES + CHLOE O'BRIAN"), my joy was soon sucked from my soul like a dementor's kiss, because at Mass General, the train just sat there and sat there. It said it was on standby. Then it said there was an accident. Then it said there was a fire on the tracks, at which point a girl stood up and said, "Well WE'RE never moving," and the next ten minutes were spent wondering if we should all get off or not.
At 5:38, the time when my train was leaving, I called my boy Kage and asked her to, once again, direct me to my destination. What did people do without Google maps? (Answer: paper maps. Now you, too, can be smarter than a fifth grader.) I walked in the same Sturrow Drive/Mass Gen. circle for an unnecessary amount of time before we finally righted ourselves and I headed up Beacon Hill, the biggest hill of my life. It was starting to rain. According to Google maps, Kage said it was only about a mile. FALSE. I have since plotted out the route, and it was 2.57! Uphill! In the rain! With two bags! I had since changed into my more comfortable shoes, but I was hungry! And what a hill!
I was very surprised (and also extremely irked) to find out that there was really zero coverage of the Red Line fire on the news when I came across about twelve firetrucks on my journey, spanning Park St. and Downtown Crossing. There were so many people standing around with no idea what to do, and it was raining, and rush hour, and everyone was sad, and wahh. Actually, towards the end of my incredible blockbuster journey, I considered that since I was late anyway, I might as well just stand out there in the rain--it was crazy humid, I was sweating like a [your choice], and it was just the right pressure of summer rain. But I was way too fucking hungry, so a half-hour later, I made it to South Station, missed my next train by two minutes, and ran to the nearest food stand to order myself a half of a pizza.
I sat with a woman, a teacher at UMass in a colorful shirt and most appropriate rose-colored glasses, whose birthday it was. She was waiting for her partner, who was stuck at JFK/UMass, to arrive so that they could go to the Natalie Merchant concert. We tried to figure out routes to get her partner there in time, but after a while, she said, "You know what? Who cares. I would just as soon have dinner with her at the South Station Pizzaria Regina as go see Natalie. We had a fight this morning, and I feel terrible about it. I just want her to make it here."
On the train home, I took off my shoes, sat cross-legged, and couldn't tear my eyes from my book, although my thoughts did wander every now and then. It is almost 9:00! I should have been home hours ago! Why do I still have my period? This is very uncomfortable. This train is cold. Is that the air-conditioning? It's not that hot out. Did a conductor never come through? Did we all just get a free ride? But I bought a ticket already! Can I use this later, then? Expiration date: November. God help me if I'm still doing this in November.
The one thing that went right--the doors were wide open, I got to hop out of a moving train, right in front of my mom in the waiting car.
It sort of kills me how horribly strained my storytelling abilities have become. Where is my vocabulary?