Room Writer

It’s raining again. I pack my lunch, grab my umbrella, and head outside. Wearing boots was a good idea, but now I have to walk 1 mile to the train station. I take a deep breath. On the way, I see the usuals, men, women, and kids, going to work or school, two very jolly student traffic controllers that I always greet on my way, and the fire station with the firefighters ready to jump on call. Rain did not stop anyone.

The platform is crowded today due to an ongoing maintenance on the other track. We take the “Orange line T” usually, but today we will take the “commuter train” for the part of our journey, which is just a sophisticated version of the T. It has sophisticated seats and sophisticated passengers, the ones who wear woolen coats and carry leather bags. Some move seats to make room for you to sit, most don’t since you do not “qualify” to take such a sophisticated train with your cheap T ticket.

There is an additional grumbling noise on the commuter train today, the tired and exhausted grumble of the unqualified and qualified passengers. The train conductor is cheerful, surprisingly, given that the train is packed today. We are standing, our noses up to the door, with our bags wrestling to find space, our minds fogged, and our eyes tired. The conductor says, as the train moves onto the next stop, “Don’t worry guys, this is just a week, not your whole life.” I smile weakly. I should be fortified, but I am not, as I have to catch another T to get to work this entire week. Thank God it’s not my life, but now it has become a part of my life. I could have driven to work, but I don’t drive, and I don’t have a car. I knew how to drive, but now I don’t. It just feels really daunting to drive on these roads with all the fast-moving cars. Besides, where do I park? The streets are busy; the parking lots are usually expensive and full.

It is time to disembark and catch T, for the other part of my journey, before the swarming crowd blocks my way. A wishful thinking as now I have to stay put before all the passengers in front of me, standing and sitting, go first. I do not want to wait, especially for the sitting passengers who did not move seats for others to sit, but I wait. I have to be polite and cultured, if not sophisticated. Out on the platform, I follow the crowd to the exit. The chaos at the exit makes me nauseous. The way leading to another train is chaotic too, with some people following random queues and some people dilly-dallying. I take baby steps, and it takes forever to get to the other side. I see the other train now, ready to move, and I panic. I run towards the T, and the door shuts before I can get in. I sigh in desperation. The T leaves.