the written unwritten rules
I leave my house at 7:40am. It used to be 7:30, before that it was 7:15. I
discovered the snooze button, now waking up is a more gradual process.
Unwritten Rule # 1 of Public Transportation: Everyone you travel with on public transportation is a stranger, unless you know him or her in any other situation.
I get to the bus stop at 7:47 am. Everyone at the bus stop knows each other but we pretend not to. We don’t know each other’s name but we have a secret bound that we don’t reveal to any one else. If we passed each other on the street and saw each other we would, perhaps, at best, silently nod to each other. We would never openly say, “hi.” In all intensive purposes we don’t know each other.
We stand in silence. But we are all aware of each other.
Unwritten Rule # 41 of Public Transportation: Avoid eye contact. Look for straight forward and up slightly and remain completely silent.
The bus arrives.
I am a block away. I sprint to the bus stop. If it’s a gym day I have my black/ partially white paint stained sneakers. If it’s an ordinary day, I have my scraped leather boots cleverly concealed under my dress pants. To my luck, it’s a gym day. The sprint is easier on my feet. However, I am not completely in shape yet, so my speed lasts for a short distance.
“You made it,” Nikki says to me as I step on to the bus. Nikki isn’t her real name. It’s just what I call her in my head. She looks like a Nikki I used to know- gracefully aged thirty years. “I would have tried to hold the bus for you if I hadn’t seen you lung over that snow bank.”
It was a thoughtful remark, which incidentally I couldn’t come up with a good response to. In hindsight, a good response would have been, “I would have held the bus for you too.” Instead I smiled and nodded. Nikki seemed disappointed with this response. I didn’t register this at first because my brain’s hours of operation are between 10:30 am to 3:30 am eastern standard time. Later, on the train Nikki entered the car I was on and was about to sit in one of the available seats next to me. She saw me and at the last second stopped then decided to go the next car. Despite my lack of brain function, this did not surprise me.
Unwritten Rule # 414 of Public Transportation: Never sit next to a stranger you had a previous and brief conversation with on another form of public transportation. It makes you look like a stalker.
She acted with in reason.
Nikki isn’t the only person I have a nickname for.
At the bus stop there’s “Kelly,” who looks like Kelly from The Office as well as “Annoying Douche Bag Who Is Always On His Cell Phone.” I hate him. I have no reason to, except for his being on his cell phone every time I see him. As previously mentioned I get to the bus stop at 7:47am, that said, I can’t imagine any reason to talk to any person that early in the morning.
It’s obnoxious.
It’s a daily routine.
Who is he talking to? Is it possible there is another “Annoying Douche Bag On His/ Her Cell Phone” at another bus stop?
On the bus there is Elf and Clarissa.
Elf is an emo looking girl who is constantly falling asleep on the bus and train. I have come to know her because we are both creatures of habit. We both chose to board the first car of the train, in the row facing the opposite direction as the sun. If we can’t find a seat, we wait for another train.
We do this separately.
I call her Elf because she had a big nose and small chin. She also, on course with being emo, has thick black glasses and black hair with bangs. Usually I don’t seep low enough to give some one a horrible name like Elf, but one day on the train/ bus she wore a wool hat with a pointed top and pompons. I couldn’t resist.
And then there is Clarissa. She looks like Melissa Joan Hart, who starred in “Clarissa Explains It All” and my girlfriend’s favorite show “Sabrina The Teenage Witch.” I once considered getting Clarissa to pose for a picture with me and signing it, as Melissa Joan Hart, for my girlfriend’s birthday, but Clarissa for one reason or another looks like she is pissed off at all times. Her eyes are sharp, her eyebrows are always raised, and I suspect if I were to begin having an open conversation with her, she would end it with a skull chewing of some kind.
Unwritten Rule # 14 of Public Transportation: On a mostly empty train never sit directly next to someone. There is a one-seat minimum distance between each person. If, however, you are on a mostly full train, it is acceptable to sit in an empty seat between people.
On the train I become very self-conscious. I read. I average about a book a week. I don’t seem as if I am minding the world around me, but in actuality I am very sensitive to it.
No one is sitting next to me.
Do I smell?
Shit, did I forget to put on deodorant this morning?
No!
It’s not me! It’s the person on the other side of the empty seat. Yes, look at him- unshaven, dirty, you know, the works.
Then I realize the very beautiful blonde sitting next to him on his other side.
It’s me.
I smell.
Wait…
Who’s this?
She’s eying the seat next to me!
Wait-
Who’s this?
No. No. He can’t possibility sit between him and I. It’s impossible. Had this been Star Trek, I would be Scotty saying we can’t do it and stating something about the laws of physics.
Let her sit down, not you! Chivalry isn’t dead is it?
He sits.
This is the worst. I would rather have two fat people sitting on either side of me than having one sitting next to me while an empty seat lingers on my other side. I feel unbalanced. I feel unproportioned. I am leaning towards the empty area like some kind of human leaning tower of Pisa.
Unwritten Rule # 23 of Public Transportation: If necessary, to avoid eye contact, bring a distraction, for example an Ipod/ MP3 Player, Book, etc. Warning, books may lead to conversation.
Books, as it turns out are very interesting sources of conversation. “Battle Royale” attracted some attention as did “Water for Elephants.” Books attract questions like, “How do you like it?” or “Did you hear they are making it into a movie?” That is always the most embarrassing question of all. I don’t want to be one of those people. The ones that buy “Die Hard” when “Die Hard 4 (a.k.a. Live Free or Die Harder) is coming out in theaters. Or one of those people that when a movie is based on a book, goes out and gets that very same book in time for the opening night of that film. I feel people like that should have a duce cap which clearly states, “Yes, this marketing ploy worked!”
I’ll get it later, months later, just out of protest.
One time, was reading “The Road,” by Cormac McCarthy and a girl sat next to me. She crossed her legs toward me. I felt the urge to talk to her. I continued reading.
“Are you a fan of Cormac McCarthy?” She asked.
“Kind of, this is the first book I ever read by him,” I said looking over at her. She had brown eyes; I’m not sure why it matters, but I always tend to notice the eye color of any person I am having a conversation with.
“I just finished reading “No County For Old Men,” She said. I didn’t know he wrote that.
“Yeah, he did,” she responded.
“I wanted to see that movie,” I added.
“Me too. I know it’s still playing in Revere. I would go to see it, but all my friends aren’t interested.”
“That’s too bad.” We made eye contact. It seemed like she was expecting me to add something more my comment. There was nothing more. She seemed disappointed by this.
She got off at the next stop. I continued reading.
Unwritten Rule #42 of Public Transportation: If you see someone you work with going to or from work, you are not obligated to talk to them. If you chose not to, pretend not to see them (see rule #23 for possible distractions to accomplish this.) However it should be noted, if you wish to start a conversation with a fellow coworker on public transportation, you and he or she will be obligated to maintain a conversation till either you both part ways or till you and that person get to work.
“What are you reading?” Someone asked me. I knew this person. I work with this person.
“Skeleton Crew by Stephen King,” I answered. I just finished reading The Mist, which was coming out later that year. There was nothing wrong with reading something before it came out as a movie.
That’s my logic.
Deal with it.
Any who, I wanted to read my book, but at this time I was waiting outside the train station waiting for my ride home. I didn’t mind being interrupted.
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a collection of short stories.”
“So… it’s like a preview of other books?”
“No…” I didn’t know how to get more specific than what I said. “It’s just a bunch of short stories…” I left it at that.
This did not end the conversation.
“What’s that?” He asked pointing to the cover of the book.
“It’s an evil monkey.” The cover depicted a demonic looking toy monkey holding two cymbals.
“Is it possessed by a demon?” he asked.
“I don’t know I haven’t gotten to that short story yet.”
“Is it possessed by a murderer?”
I could have repeated myself. Instead I just jumbled the word order “I’m actually not sure, I haven’t read that story yet.”
“It doesn’t kill children does it?”
“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “I haven’t read that far yet.”
“It’s really scary isn’t it?”
“Maybe, though I should state I haven’t gotten that far in this book to know yet.”
“I think they should out law Halloween.”
That was the beginning of the low point in our conversation. I enjoyed his use of the phrase of “outlaw” in terms of Halloween. For example, if any one were found on October 31st with any kind of disguise they would be arrested on sight and charged. It seemed a bit harsh.
“All the decorations are too much,” he continued. I considered walking home, but I already called my ride to come pick me up. Suddenly saying, “Well I’m gonna walk home! See you tomorrow”- was out of the question. I needed to stay there and take it. I tried to change the subject.
“So what are you reading there?” My coworker was reading a book about LBJ. Since I started working at my current job 5 months ago, he had been reading that book. He explained the book to me. It was a rough interpretation of the inner cover which was the story behind the Vietnam War and The LBJ administration.
“Awesome, I love non- fiction.” I was about to talk about a book I read involving the Chicago World’s Fair and how serial killer H.H. Holmes used that attraction to lure his victims of his hotel until he said,
“What’s that?” He said in reference to nonfiction.
I was flabbergasted.
Where do I start?
“Well…” I began. A horn honked. It was my ride. “Well I have to go. I’ll get back to you.”
I drove off into the cold, dark, distance of my hometown. I didn’t have to give up my seat for disabled Americans. At no point was some one absently standing in front of me at crouch level. There was a relation between I and the driver- blood. Our conversations were just as pleasing as the others.
discovered the snooze button, now waking up is a more gradual process.
Unwritten Rule # 1 of Public Transportation: Everyone you travel with on public transportation is a stranger, unless you know him or her in any other situation.
I get to the bus stop at 7:47 am. Everyone at the bus stop knows each other but we pretend not to. We don’t know each other’s name but we have a secret bound that we don’t reveal to any one else. If we passed each other on the street and saw each other we would, perhaps, at best, silently nod to each other. We would never openly say, “hi.” In all intensive purposes we don’t know each other.
We stand in silence. But we are all aware of each other.
Unwritten Rule # 41 of Public Transportation: Avoid eye contact. Look for straight forward and up slightly and remain completely silent.
The bus arrives.
I am a block away. I sprint to the bus stop. If it’s a gym day I have my black/ partially white paint stained sneakers. If it’s an ordinary day, I have my scraped leather boots cleverly concealed under my dress pants. To my luck, it’s a gym day. The sprint is easier on my feet. However, I am not completely in shape yet, so my speed lasts for a short distance.
“You made it,” Nikki says to me as I step on to the bus. Nikki isn’t her real name. It’s just what I call her in my head. She looks like a Nikki I used to know- gracefully aged thirty years. “I would have tried to hold the bus for you if I hadn’t seen you lung over that snow bank.”
It was a thoughtful remark, which incidentally I couldn’t come up with a good response to. In hindsight, a good response would have been, “I would have held the bus for you too.” Instead I smiled and nodded. Nikki seemed disappointed with this response. I didn’t register this at first because my brain’s hours of operation are between 10:30 am to 3:30 am eastern standard time. Later, on the train Nikki entered the car I was on and was about to sit in one of the available seats next to me. She saw me and at the last second stopped then decided to go the next car. Despite my lack of brain function, this did not surprise me.
Unwritten Rule # 414 of Public Transportation: Never sit next to a stranger you had a previous and brief conversation with on another form of public transportation. It makes you look like a stalker.
She acted with in reason.
Nikki isn’t the only person I have a nickname for.
At the bus stop there’s “Kelly,” who looks like Kelly from The Office as well as “Annoying Douche Bag Who Is Always On His Cell Phone.” I hate him. I have no reason to, except for his being on his cell phone every time I see him. As previously mentioned I get to the bus stop at 7:47am, that said, I can’t imagine any reason to talk to any person that early in the morning.
It’s obnoxious.
It’s a daily routine.
Who is he talking to? Is it possible there is another “Annoying Douche Bag On His/ Her Cell Phone” at another bus stop?
On the bus there is Elf and Clarissa.
Elf is an emo looking girl who is constantly falling asleep on the bus and train. I have come to know her because we are both creatures of habit. We both chose to board the first car of the train, in the row facing the opposite direction as the sun. If we can’t find a seat, we wait for another train.
We do this separately.
I call her Elf because she had a big nose and small chin. She also, on course with being emo, has thick black glasses and black hair with bangs. Usually I don’t seep low enough to give some one a horrible name like Elf, but one day on the train/ bus she wore a wool hat with a pointed top and pompons. I couldn’t resist.
And then there is Clarissa. She looks like Melissa Joan Hart, who starred in “Clarissa Explains It All” and my girlfriend’s favorite show “Sabrina The Teenage Witch.” I once considered getting Clarissa to pose for a picture with me and signing it, as Melissa Joan Hart, for my girlfriend’s birthday, but Clarissa for one reason or another looks like she is pissed off at all times. Her eyes are sharp, her eyebrows are always raised, and I suspect if I were to begin having an open conversation with her, she would end it with a skull chewing of some kind.
Unwritten Rule # 14 of Public Transportation: On a mostly empty train never sit directly next to someone. There is a one-seat minimum distance between each person. If, however, you are on a mostly full train, it is acceptable to sit in an empty seat between people.
On the train I become very self-conscious. I read. I average about a book a week. I don’t seem as if I am minding the world around me, but in actuality I am very sensitive to it.
No one is sitting next to me.
Do I smell?
Shit, did I forget to put on deodorant this morning?
No!
It’s not me! It’s the person on the other side of the empty seat. Yes, look at him- unshaven, dirty, you know, the works.
Then I realize the very beautiful blonde sitting next to him on his other side.
It’s me.
I smell.
Wait…
Who’s this?
She’s eying the seat next to me!
Wait-
Who’s this?
No. No. He can’t possibility sit between him and I. It’s impossible. Had this been Star Trek, I would be Scotty saying we can’t do it and stating something about the laws of physics.
Let her sit down, not you! Chivalry isn’t dead is it?
He sits.
This is the worst. I would rather have two fat people sitting on either side of me than having one sitting next to me while an empty seat lingers on my other side. I feel unbalanced. I feel unproportioned. I am leaning towards the empty area like some kind of human leaning tower of Pisa.
Unwritten Rule # 23 of Public Transportation: If necessary, to avoid eye contact, bring a distraction, for example an Ipod/ MP3 Player, Book, etc. Warning, books may lead to conversation.
Books, as it turns out are very interesting sources of conversation. “Battle Royale” attracted some attention as did “Water for Elephants.” Books attract questions like, “How do you like it?” or “Did you hear they are making it into a movie?” That is always the most embarrassing question of all. I don’t want to be one of those people. The ones that buy “Die Hard” when “Die Hard 4 (a.k.a. Live Free or Die Harder) is coming out in theaters. Or one of those people that when a movie is based on a book, goes out and gets that very same book in time for the opening night of that film. I feel people like that should have a duce cap which clearly states, “Yes, this marketing ploy worked!”
I’ll get it later, months later, just out of protest.
One time, was reading “The Road,” by Cormac McCarthy and a girl sat next to me. She crossed her legs toward me. I felt the urge to talk to her. I continued reading.
“Are you a fan of Cormac McCarthy?” She asked.
“Kind of, this is the first book I ever read by him,” I said looking over at her. She had brown eyes; I’m not sure why it matters, but I always tend to notice the eye color of any person I am having a conversation with.
“I just finished reading “No County For Old Men,” She said. I didn’t know he wrote that.
“Yeah, he did,” she responded.
“I wanted to see that movie,” I added.
“Me too. I know it’s still playing in Revere. I would go to see it, but all my friends aren’t interested.”
“That’s too bad.” We made eye contact. It seemed like she was expecting me to add something more my comment. There was nothing more. She seemed disappointed by this.
She got off at the next stop. I continued reading.
Unwritten Rule #42 of Public Transportation: If you see someone you work with going to or from work, you are not obligated to talk to them. If you chose not to, pretend not to see them (see rule #23 for possible distractions to accomplish this.) However it should be noted, if you wish to start a conversation with a fellow coworker on public transportation, you and he or she will be obligated to maintain a conversation till either you both part ways or till you and that person get to work.
“What are you reading?” Someone asked me. I knew this person. I work with this person.
“Skeleton Crew by Stephen King,” I answered. I just finished reading The Mist, which was coming out later that year. There was nothing wrong with reading something before it came out as a movie.
That’s my logic.
Deal with it.
Any who, I wanted to read my book, but at this time I was waiting outside the train station waiting for my ride home. I didn’t mind being interrupted.
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a collection of short stories.”
“So… it’s like a preview of other books?”
“No…” I didn’t know how to get more specific than what I said. “It’s just a bunch of short stories…” I left it at that.
This did not end the conversation.
“What’s that?” He asked pointing to the cover of the book.
“It’s an evil monkey.” The cover depicted a demonic looking toy monkey holding two cymbals.
“Is it possessed by a demon?” he asked.
“I don’t know I haven’t gotten to that short story yet.”
“Is it possessed by a murderer?”
I could have repeated myself. Instead I just jumbled the word order “I’m actually not sure, I haven’t read that story yet.”
“It doesn’t kill children does it?”
“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “I haven’t read that far yet.”
“It’s really scary isn’t it?”
“Maybe, though I should state I haven’t gotten that far in this book to know yet.”
“I think they should out law Halloween.”
That was the beginning of the low point in our conversation. I enjoyed his use of the phrase of “outlaw” in terms of Halloween. For example, if any one were found on October 31st with any kind of disguise they would be arrested on sight and charged. It seemed a bit harsh.
“All the decorations are too much,” he continued. I considered walking home, but I already called my ride to come pick me up. Suddenly saying, “Well I’m gonna walk home! See you tomorrow”- was out of the question. I needed to stay there and take it. I tried to change the subject.
“So what are you reading there?” My coworker was reading a book about LBJ. Since I started working at my current job 5 months ago, he had been reading that book. He explained the book to me. It was a rough interpretation of the inner cover which was the story behind the Vietnam War and The LBJ administration.
“Awesome, I love non- fiction.” I was about to talk about a book I read involving the Chicago World’s Fair and how serial killer H.H. Holmes used that attraction to lure his victims of his hotel until he said,
“What’s that?” He said in reference to nonfiction.
I was flabbergasted.
Where do I start?
“Well…” I began. A horn honked. It was my ride. “Well I have to go. I’ll get back to you.”
I drove off into the cold, dark, distance of my hometown. I didn’t have to give up my seat for disabled Americans. At no point was some one absently standing in front of me at crouch level. There was a relation between I and the driver- blood. Our conversations were just as pleasing as the others.