Blue Line

Roger didn’t much care for riding the blue line, “el”. There wasn’t anything specifically wrong with it, he just didn’t like it. It always made him feel a little depressed and sleepy. There was something about the rocking of the train car and the noises that made him feel melancholy. Which he supposed was appropriate for October and the approach of Halloween.

The train car quickly filled with the denizens of the city. Some dirty, some clean, some noisy, some fat, some skinny, some white, some black, some with their music too loud in their headphones, some with their heads buried in a cell phone and all of them made Roger feel uncomfortable. As usual there was at least one very attractive woman riding the train, but she was too far away to try and start any conversation with. Roger felt good about meeting beautiful women on the train.   

He’d met lots of women on the train over the years and had had lots of conversations with them, but after following them and breaking into their homes to continue the conversation they seemed so less receptive to him. They almost always tried to struggle and run or call the police or something. Roger just couldn’t understand why they would be happy to talk to him on the train but not in their bedrooms.

Roger tried not to breathe through his nose on the train because he didn’t like the smell. The one attractive girl got off the train before Roger had a chance to cozy up next to her. He’d discovered over the years that women trust a guy wearing a wedding ring who talks about his kids or his dog and maybe mentions things are a little tough with the wife but he was committed to working it out. Women had that inherent sympathy thing, usually the prettier, the more sympathetic they were. They listened and often tried to offer him advice. Sometimes he did listen and would take his wife out for a fancy meal or do something to show her how he appreciated her just as those women would suggest.

It was funny to Roger how quickly all those nice and kind words always turned to screams by about three o’clock in the morning. He didn’t hate them. He just didn’t think it was fair that he couldn’t have them, especially after they made such a pleasant connection while riding the train. Some other jerk was going to feel their skin and touch their hair and Roger just couldn’t abide that.

The train pulled into Roger’s train station and he got up and squeezed between the fat, skinny, white, black, noisy, ugly people and stepped out onto the platform into the crisp October evening.  He would have to make a new friend tomorrow.