The signifigance of small irritations

It was like a movie.

To hear the whistle of the train approach, you would think that what you are about to experience is not anything significant at all … when in fact … it could be. The story about to unfold is one of those times when something significant happens, but you just do not realize it until you have already forgotten it.

I entered the train and took notice of a few passengers.

There was a little girl next to me, probably entering third grade. She sat with her mom as they talked about school. The little girl kept saying, “I don’t wanna go to school!” She would then follow that comment with, “I can’t wait for school!” With this obvious contradiction giving me a terrible headache, the only thought that I could think of was how ugly her dress was.

After pulling my eyes off of her hideous dress, I stretched my feet out. My feet then struck those of another man. His eyes darted at me with a look I hope to never see again.To make things worse, four girls across from me were wearing the same shoes. Oh yeah, their makeup was the same, their hair was done the same, and they each carried approximately 200 dollars worth of Eddie Bauer shirts and panties. I know this because they were each individually talking to their friends about their purchases on their cell phones at a pitch loud enough to conquer a lawnmower.

Now sitting at my 2-o-clock was a quiet passenger who seemed to be very annoyed by the lady in front of him who kept belching when somebody would walk past her. Seeming like a fairly normal guy. I did not take too much notice in his presence. Then I slowly glanced at him and saw what he was reading. He was reading Young & Modern, with a cover story on the American Pie 2 girls. This seems normal, yes, but he was at least 40 years old. He recently bleached his remaining hair and wore a Hot Topic wallet chain. The sight of seeing this man trying to desperately cling on to the 12-year-old inside him was enough to make me switch seats.

The next 10 minutes consisted of people coming and people (thankfully) going. For the rest of the trip, I stared blankly into the reflection of my own eyes while trying to get my mind off of that girl’s ugly dress, those identical shoes, and the middle-aged 12-year-old. When it was time to leave, I got up, turned to my left, and exited the train. As it pulled away, a newspaper lying under the train was kicked up in the wind and slowly floated till it had reached the ground … just like you see in a movie.