Thursday, August 05, 2004

BART Buddies

Yesterday morning I sat across from a Mexican guy wearing a purple and black flannel work shirt and a mullet. He had a small igloo cooler between his legs and a Starbucks messenger bag slung over his back (CAN YOU SAY "FREEBIE"!). He had rings on every finger save his thumbs and he was listening to music on an ancient SONY Walkman. He rocked awkwardly with the beat (which you could hear faintly over the din of the moving train) and tried pitifully to lip-sync with the lyrics. I'm pretty sure he was listening to Mexican rap because the only word he could mouth consistently was "PUTO!"
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Here's a tip for anyone stuck standing on a crowded BART train on their commute home: don't stare unblinkingly at the person 16 inches away from your face even if he looks like a cross between Adam Arkin and Larry David with a tan. It's even more wise not to stare at him if he has 8 rings through the hard cartilage of each ear. It's even wiser not to stare at him if he has hair GROWING DOWN THE TOP RIDGE OF EACH EARLOBE THAT COMES VERY NEAR TO MESHING WITH THE THATCH OF HAIR SPROUTING FROM INSIDE EACH EAR THAT ITSELF BLENDS INTO THE HUGE MUTTON CHOPS HE'S SPORTING!!

I could tell he was getting pissed because I never said anything; I only stared intently at his left ear from above the newspaper I was reading. I'm just glad we didn't get off at the same stop. He probably would have tried to kick my ass and that was a prospect I was genuinely afraid of. I'm sorry, I don't care how big you are, when someone with that much body hair gets angry with you, it's time to make yourself scarce
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Conversation is rare on BART. So when it happens everyone is listening. The people around you may be reading their newspapers intently, or knitting feverishly, or dozing contentedly, but they're listening. They're ALL listening. That's why flirting on BART is so difficult...unless you don't give a shit like a co-worker of mine. Then it becomes HIGH-larious.

Quite often I ride home on the same train as this co-worker. Her name is Tandy and she is one of the bigger jokers in the paralegal department. She's the type of girl who talks about her bowel movements like she would talk about the weather just because she knows how uncomfortable it makes the people around her.

One the rare occassion that we find two seats together on the same car, this girl flips the switch and launches into some sort of inappropriate conversation. The first time we rode together and she started in like this, the topic of choice was 9/11 and the likelihood that it was all faked--like the moon landing and the Holocaust. Her best line that night was "I don't know why people find this so hard to believe. David Copperfield makes shit disappear all the time. All he needs are some mirrors and an orchestral accompaniment."

Back near the end of June we ended up riding home on a very warm Tuesday night. We sat down and as soon as the train pulled away from the station she started flirting with me. As best I can remember, this is how the conversation went before we were interrupted by her cell phone ringing:

T: What's your name again?
N: Nils. Sorry, what's yours? I'm bad with names the first time I hear them.
T: It's Tandy. Like Candy, but with a T instead of a K.
N: <pause trying not to laugh already> Interesting name. Were your parents into electronics?
T: No.
<loooong pause>
N: It's just that Tandy is the name of an old electronics company that became Radio Shack a few years back.
T: What's Radio Shack?
N: You've never heard of Radio Shack? Where are you from?
T: Well I just moved to California a few months ago so there are certain things I'm still learning.
N: Oh well that makes sense I guess. Where'd you move from?
T: Los Angeles.
N: You do realize that Los Angeles is like the biggest city in California?
T: No, not that Los Angeles. I'm from the Los Angeles down by San Diego. So have you ever had sex on a train because I haven't although I've had sex on a boat, a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle but it wasn't moving so that doesn't count I guess, ummm, oh on a moped but that wasn't moving either so I guess that doesn't count too
N: Actually I'm a virgin.
T: WHAT!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?
N: I'm Catholic.
T: Ohhhh, so you can't have normal sex but I can still put it in your ass right?
N: Excuse me?!
T: Yeah, aren't Catholics the ones who have tons of oral and anal sex because it's not normal sex and not a sin? I read about that somewhere.
N: DUDE! That's Catholic girls NOT Catholic guys.
T: Oh.
<cell phone rings>


I rue the day that we commute home next to each other uninterrupted. I'm afraid she's going to turn me into a hate crime victim.

14 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

why am i not surprised that someone with a name like "Tandy" has never heard of radio shack and thinks catholic guys have oral and anal sex

August 5, 2004 at 5:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Fucking LA. Not surprising at all.

August 5, 2004 at 6:01 PM  
Blogger The Lovely S said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

August 5, 2004 at 7:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The lovely S,

You are Fat.

August 5, 2004 at 8:26 PM  
Blogger The Lovely S said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

August 5, 2004 at 8:52 PM  
Blogger The Lovely S said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

August 5, 2004 at 8:55 PM  
Blogger The Lovely S said...

oh christ, i'm absolutely incapable of working this fucking blogger bullshit.

1) first two people, re-read. the conversation was just a joke.

2) you other person. original aren't we? don't be mad at me for pointing out your reading comprehension error.

August 5, 2004 at 8:59 PM  
Blogger boobilicious said...

Loving your posts more and more. Thank you for the entertainment!

August 5, 2004 at 9:26 PM  
Blogger Keeter said...

Next time, just sit next to each other for the first five minutes or so without acknowledging each other as if you're strangers, then start making out until you reach your stop.

August 6, 2004 at 7:17 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's Allen Arkin, not Adam.

August 6, 2004 at 8:30 AM  
Blogger NP said...

first of all, it's ALAN, not Allen. Second of all, Adam is his SON from Chicago Hope fame. Know your celebrities before you open your mouth. Would you like a lesson in father-son actors? Because that can be arranged.

August 6, 2004 at 9:17 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

will you make me a house call, kiss my babies and
tell me stories?

August 6, 2004 at 1:15 PM  
Blogger NP said...

Anything for a fan. Unless you're a dude.

August 6, 2004 at 1:46 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The song he was listening to was entitled "Puto" by a group called Control Machete. It's supposedly Spanish hard rock. Keep up the good writing. - Kaliente

August 9, 2004 at 10:42 AM  

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