Thursday after class

Originally posted on my "Story Writing" class' discussion/message board. So it's really written with them as the intended audience.

Class was running late. I knew I was going to miss my train home, there wasn't much I could do about it. I couldn't just get up and leave midway through the story. That's rude as hell and moreso, the story was interesting. It wrapped up and we through out comments, by that time it was too late. I resigned myself to my fate. We packed up as a group and took the elevator back down to the lobby. From there the class dispersed. Some heading north, some to the BART station and the rest to parts unknown.

I was on my own as I walked down Market St. I had my iPod with me, which has become a good friend during these long and daily commutes of solitude. Sometimes it knows me so well and plays just the right song. This wasn't really one of those times. Then again there weren't many songs that would have cheered me up.

Missing the 10:40 Caltrain means that I'm stuck waiting until the next one, the last one at 12:01am. That's a long as wait when you consider that the station isn't a station at all, it's just a glass wall with a roof and two partial walls which are opened most of the time. The back is open, a mall style roll down gate fakes as a back wall. For a native New York this is drives me fucking insane. There's no possible way to compare it to Grand Central. I knew I was in for a miserable night. To top it all off, I'll get back to Sunnyvale around 1:30 in the morning and then get the joy of walking a mile back to my apartment.

I'm walking down Market St. and need a better thought. I start thinking about a schoolmate, someone I don't know who had been mugged earlier in the day. I overheard him retelling the story to some of his peers. Two men hit him from behind and knocked him down. While down they snatched his iPhone. I felt bad being an uninvited listener to his story. His classmates expressed all the right sincerity. The first question everyone asked was about his laptop - even as a 1st quarter student I know that your laptop is your whole life. If you lose it you're pretty much fucked. Fortunately the muggers were amateurs in a hurry, a hit and run job and just made off with the iPhone.

My thoughts turned into the twisted alley way they usually go to when I'm alone. How I would, or would like to react in that situation. I thought of someone running up from behind me, grabbing at my bag strapping and pulling it with them as they ran past. I pictured myself gripping hard and pulling back on it. I'm not a big guy by any stretch of the imagination, not even for a midget. I realized I'd be pulled a few steps forward in the perps direction. I thought of pulling my weight back, since I'd have the advantage of the bag wrapped around my opposite shoulder. He'd be pulled towards me. I imagined at this point adrenaline mixed with Mountain Dew, some deep rooted psychological issues and too many action movies would take over.

He'd stumble a few steps in my direction, caught off balance. Kick to the stomach. He lets go of the bag and bends over. Right cross to the face hopefully sending him to the ground. If not I've got a left already queued up. Small or not that should take him down. The anger of being a victim again sets in. The thoughts of the student who was mugged, my friend whose home was burglarized in Los Altos - drop down and punch him to the back of the head sending it into the unforgiving pavement. Nose is at least broken at this point, maybe some teeth are gone. Who knows if his tongue is still in tack? I'm yelling for people to call 911 as I place my knee into his spine and press down. If he flails or tries to get up it won't end pretty. At this point I'm keeping myself in control. The daydream/fantasy ends with the cops arriving.

I make it to the bus stop and prepare myself for a wait of indefinite length. Fortunately about a song and a half in I spot the bus coming around the corner. I get on and take a seat. I'm too tired to stand. A few stops down the line the bus stops, people get on and people get off. Two people are waiting approximately 20 meters away (according to an unreliable witness/participant) under the plastic booth. The bus pulls away and I notice the two with confused and irritated looks on their face. A stop or so later the two get on the bus. The guy immediately questions why the driver didn't stop. The driver contends that he did stop. The guy argues that it was 20 meters in front of where he was standing.

I hate that. Self important bastards who think won't compromise. The bus driver points out that people got on and off the bus. The man restates his ridiculous position. I decide to stay quiet. I'm not going to fight over something like this and I'm confident that there will be no negative repercussions for the bus driver.

I get to the Caltrain station at 10:45. I know I have a long wait ahead of me and make a line for the restroom. It's closed, for cleaning. There's one public bathroom in the whole fucking place and it's being cleaned when the rest of the city is closed. Great. I walk outside to the familiar circle of park benches hoping they will hurry up and clean it. I think about writing in my blog an open letter to the mayor with all of my Caltrain grievances. I realize it's of little use, Caltrain is bigger than San Francisco - the governor will need to be the recipient.

I've spent a decent amount of time in this little circle. I even had an idea one Thursday night after class to stage a flash mom-esque choreographed dance sequence. Participating in a spontaneous well choreographed public dance sequence is one of my goals in life and I'm feeling more and more confident it will happen. I had some rough ideas and emailed them late one night to a classmate.

I look over to the glass housing the little waiting room with the restrooms attached to it. Paco is still cleaning. I'm mentally egging him on. I think about kicking in the window just so I can be, but I'm not going to jail over this. Plus there are sheriffs outside by the trains. One of them may shoot me dead.

What a story that would be. White, middle class student, shot dead in the Caltrain station, apparently on his way to the restroom. How do you know he was headed towards the restroom the press would ask. "He was found with his zipper down and his dick in his hand. Also trace amounts of urine were found near the body." What an embarrassment it'd be for the city. I thought about the guy who shot me getting it from the rest of the guys on the force.

"What happened O'Grady? Saw it was bigger than yours so you shot the kid?" Then I realized O'Grady would be a stereotypical name for a cop in Boston, maybe New York. I don't think there's a large Irish population in San Francisco. If there is, they're relatively well hidden. Then I pondered what would be a stereotypical San Francisco ethnicity that people would immediately get as a racial humor. All I could think of was gays, and that changes the reason for him shooting me altogether. This story is starting to fall apart.

I finally get access to the restroom and relieve myself. I walk out and search for a bench to sit on, it's still going to be a long as wait. I find an empty spot across from 2 ticket machines. I start listening to my iPod because I have nothing else to do.

I see a girl, maybe 100 feet or so in front of me. I had seen her earlier when I was outside by the circle of benches. She's an Oakland A's fan. Jacket, bag and even her shoes are green and white. I'm not an A's fan but a girl with sports loyalty - as long as it's not Duke, the Dallas Cowboys or the Philidelphia Philies or Atlanta Braves in baseball and she's instantly attractive. She's walking towards me and I'm starting to think that she may take the empty spot besides me.

She does and I'm overcome with realizing how awkward I am. It may be nice to initiate conversation, but I'm hoping she'll make an innocuous comment about the shitty public transportation or something else in my wheel house. She doesn't and sits there board. I realize that I've been telling stories to myself all night, up to and including the current situation I was in.

I put down my bag and reach into it. I pull out my laptop deciding that I should start writing this down. Plus it's shiny, and big (my laptop) and I maybe she'll react. Nothing.

I figure I won't get an internet connection so I plan to work in Textedit. When I awake my computer from sleep I notice a free wireless network and connect with the quickness, hoping she'll be intrigued and say something. She's didn't.

My new plan, start writing the story, turn to her and ask if she wants to borrow my iPod because she looks bored. Not only is it a pretty good idea, but then I'd have more to write in my story.

Unfortunately when I started writing I looked over and she had contorted her body so that she could lie down. That awkward position where your feet are still flat on the ground but your bent over at your obliques. Her butt is pointed in my direction. White shorts. I suppose that if I was her it's less weird than having your head near some guy you've never met lying on a bench at the Caltrain station at a quarter after 11 on a Thursday night. She probably took one look at me and realized I was safe. That guy. Some friends of mine in the South Bay had a good acronym for it. It escapes me right now, but it was something like stuck in the friend zone, stuck as friend or what not.

It's sort of funny now as new people enter the station. Here I am typing and this girl is passed out near me. Most of them probably think we're together or at least know each other. It's fun to scan the looks on people's faces, especially the guys. Some wonder if I'm taking care of her, a few noticeably think she's too good for me (or vice versa but I have self esteem issues) and one guy in a cordory blazer, skinny jeans and dress shoes is lurking. I guess I've just become this girl's protector.

I'm worried about what happens when we are finally allowed on the train. She may not wake on her own naturally and then it's probably up to me to make sure she doesn't miss the last train. Like I said, her butt is the closest thing to me but that'll get me in jail for the night. I briefly considered the idea of getting up and walking to where her head was, crouching down and telling her to wake up. Then I realized that waking up on a bench with some guy you have never met before in your face, literally, may be a bit jarring for the girl. Tap her shoulder? It's probably the best approach.

Life is funny. I was finishing that sentence and a guy came over and asked if he could sit in the vacant spot between us. I agreed and shortly after he plopped down she awoke. Now he's talking to her, making small talk about her being an A's fan. I have my iPod on but can hear him slurring his words. There's a bit of a sense of danger that he's looking over my shoulder and watching me type this but eh, everyone suffers for their art. Just not in the face. Who am I kidding, it's not like it's that pretty to begin with.

Random thought, Darius commented on Jason's hair in class tonight. I bit my lip rather than blurting out that he's well aware that he has the Uncle Jesse (from Full House) look down pat. I'm still working on that internal filter.

Just checked the clock, 20 to 12. Running low on source material. I could go back to ranting about the Caltrain but feel like that's an issue that needs it's own, self contained rant. To include it in another thought would be to water it down to the point that the Governor of California, the Honorable Term-I-Nator, would not take it seriously. Well, probably more seriously then "Collateral Damage".

There's no save button here. Sort of a problem, I feel like taking a break. It's been a good 55 minutes or so of stream of conscious writing, catching up on previous events and being hyper observant while doing so. It tires you out, even if you have had 2 Mountain Dew Big Gulps over the course of the day.

Yeah sorry for that, not a random thought - dude was definitely reading over my shoulder as I wrote about him reading over my shoulder. He just got up because they are letting people on the train. He had tried talking to the girl again, but I couldn't document it since he was aware I was chronicling him. She just ignored him. She's gone now too. Guess I should get on the train. Need to find a seat with an AC adapter. I'm thinking about trying to sit near her, but since we never spoke, have no connection, and awoke to see I allowed a creepy dude to sit next to her ass while she was sleeping - eh, it's possible she doesn't want anything to do with me. She'll probably sleep anyway.

Chances are the train won't be interesting, it never is this late. I may set my alarm on my phone and catch some Zs or play video games. Who knows.

Walked to the last car/first car (closest to the south bay) of the train, looking all the lower windows to see if I saw her. Didn't. It's one of the newer trains though so there are really three different eye levels. Could only see one. Once I got on I decided to kill time by walking through the train to see if I saw her. After 2 cars I was going to give up and look for a power outlet so I could play video games. Thought I found one but realize it was for industrial plugs when I attempted to plug my charger in. Walked one my car back towards SF and noticed a regular outlet under a table in a car more crowded that I would have liked. No girl. Plugged in and awoke the computer again. Saw I still had an internet connection and added this little addendum. I'll lose the internet connection about as soon as we pull away from the "station". That's scheduled to happen in two minutes. Time to take one last look around using the reflections in the glass. Two guys are talking, everyone else is stretched out or sleeping. Don't anticipate much. If anything happens I could always write about it when I get back to the apartment, or in TextEdit.

One minute to go. I think I'm going to play the Legend of Zelda. Peace out.

See you all next week.