I have boyfriend named Boo. Okay, fine, that’s not actually his name but it is as far as this blog is concerned so there. Boo does not live in the city (insert sad face on this girl). Boo lives in Connecticut. You may recall reading about that somewhere. For as much as I would love to have Boo in the city, I like his suburban residence. I like going out there and riding in the car. I like going to Target (actually, I LOVE going to Target). I don’t even hate taking the train out to see him–it’s a 2-hour block where I don’t have to feel guilty for sitting around, doing nothing, reading and possibly falling asleep (actually, I NEVER feel guilty about napping…).
Then last weekend happened. If you’ll recall, the temperatures last weekend rivaled those in the 8th realm of hell. At least my train car would be air conditioned, right? Wrong. I was the saddest kid ever as I made make-shift capris out of my skinny jeans…not an easy task. (And before you get on my case about wearing jeans when it was that hot I did that as a preventative measure to being too cold in the car that should have been air conditioned). Turns out that it was ONLY my car that had broken AC. Bummer.
But I survived and Boo and I had a pretty cool weekend.
Then I got on the train Sunday night. I held out for a later train as the skies had opened just moments before we were supposed to leave for the earlier train and we didn’t feel like battling the highway in the rain. As we stood in the station (AC), waiting to head to the platform (no AC) we saw a lady with not one but TWO cat carriers. That’s it. No luggage. Just a purse and the cat carriers.
“Aw, kitty,” said Boo, who generally wants to kick cats in the face. That is mainly because of his allergies. But also because he doesn’t like cats.
We lost cat lady in the shuffle and Boo carried my suitcase to the platform. I got onto the train and there she was. Sitting there. Her luggage producing a loud and persistent “MEOW.” The cats blocked my way to the luggage rack which pissed me off because I’m short and have a lot of problems reaching that on a good day (which is not a day where there are 2 cats in my way).
I settled into my seat (3 rows behind Dos Gatos) when I realized, just slightly too late, that, oh no, I was sitting right by the bathroom. The whole way to New York people kept opening and shutting that door. But not without issue.
First, no one could figure out how to open it. There is a sign on the door that says “pull handle down and slide door.” No one figured that out. I’m not sure why.
Then no one could get the door to shut. After each person left (and assaulted all of us with that nasty train-bathroom stink) the door would remain shut until they’d left the train car and then, magically as if on cue, slide back open again. DOUBLE STINK ATTACK! One guy ended up with door duty (ha…duty…like doodie…ha…poop…ahem…sorry) and kept standing up and sliding the door shut again. You can’t feel too bad for Door Guy though, because he managed to attract the attention of Ditzy Girl, who I give points to because she actually managed to turn the stench of the bathroom into flirting fodder.
One particular guy was just a whole hot bathroom mess. First, he had trouble opening the door. THEN he had trouble keeping it shut. It opened on him while he was still peeing. That’s not a good situation for anyone. And Door Guy couldn’t exactly shut the door then without seeming grossly inappropriate. So we were stuck. THEN when Pees With The Door Open left, he didn’t even BOTHER to shut the door. I guess he was just so pissed (ha…pissed…get it?…man…i need to stop this…) at the door that he thought, “Ha! I’ll show that door. I won’t shut it,” without realizing that that was only hurting us, not the door. Door Guy yelled “Come ON dude?! Are you kidding me with this?” when Pees left. Then Door Guy slammed the door so hard that it locked. Permanently. For the rest of the train ride.
Considering where we were on our trip, distance-wise, I don’t think this would normally be a problem but the train was running WAY more slowly than normal. We didn’t actually get to Manhattan for 2 hours…which is annoying for a trip that normally lasts around 1:40. 20 minutes makes a big deal when your nostrils are being assailed every few minutes and your ears are bleeding from the sound of “MEOW MEOW MEOW” over and over again. People were freaking out. One dad actually cursed out Door Guy for purposely locking his son out. He was all “I don’t care if it didn’t stay shut before, that doesn’t give you the right to lock my son out.” Okay dude, calm down. I don’t think Door Guy planned this as a malicious attack against your wee lad (oh my gosh….wee…I am KILLING these today….)
When we finally pulled into Grand Central I was relieved to be getting off of that train, away from the tiny woman who sat next to me and (despite both of us being tiny) still managed to hit me every time she got stuff out of her purse, away from the stink, and away from those damn cats. But not until I waited for Dos Gatos to get off the train because she refused to move her stupid felines out of my way when she knew I was trying to get my suitcase down. She knew I was waiting for her too, because she looked at me and smiled. Don’t smile at me you cat freak. I want my suitcase so I can get off of this freak train.
I’m CT-bound again today and I’m really hoping for a less eventful trip. And if I see anyone with an animal carrying case, I’m just going to preempt them by pointing and yelling “THERE IS SOMETHING IN THAT CASE AND IT IS NOT A CAT!!!” and then strolling onto the train while they answer some questions about their precious Fluffy.
*Did you see that? Did you see what I did there? Train antics…Tr-antics…Traintics. Oh, oh that was lame? Ooh, my bad….