the drunk on the T

Image by B Tal via Flickr

Shortly into my time in Boston, I expect to become heavily reliant on the public transportation system, aptly named the "T", to get me from place to place. It was only a matter of logic that my orientation to Boston University would give me experience at riding these trains.

And so I was, on the T, returning from an exciting evening in the north end. It was charming area really: horses trotting past pulling carriages of tourists, beautiful fountains, a sha-bam of a food court serving food from just about anywhere, and the best summer evening weather I could have asked for.

It was, however, a considerable number of T stops away from Boston University, a fact that suddenly threw itself in my face on our return trip.

11pm must be the common time for everyone to head outbound on the T. I had seen pictures of people in India getting a run start to get onto trains. Why? In hopes of having enough force to squeeze into the overstuffed train cab. I had really believed this was an India-only phenomena but I am now experienced enough to tell you that it happens right here in the US, in a city named Boston.

I was tucked in right by the door. This meant everyone squeezing in at a stop was squeezing in by me. If I didn't hold onto the bar above my head, it is likely I would've fallen out.

Being jammed packed can go two ways for you. Once, between stops, a beautiful young women my age was pushed front to front with me. After a few awkward giggles and smiles, we arrived at the next stop, the doors flew open, a new rush of people squeezed in, and she was swept away to be replaced by Dan.

His appearance was awful. His hair was long, uncleaned, and tied carelessly in the back. He had the start of a bristly beard as it was clear he had gone more than a few days since his last shave. His A-shirt looked like it was mostly likely white at one point, perhaps weeks ago. He smelled of alcohol and crushed a can of Coors in his right hand. "I'm Dan. Fuck you."

Thanks Dan, I love formal greetings.

Fortunately the next stop would come soon and he would either get off or be swept deeper into the train. Neither. He held the bar above tightly and swung into me to let more riders in and retained his place, neighboring me, by the door.

"Weee-eee!" he shouted as the train started. A few people, of a fortunately further proximity than I, were able to laugh. "I'm trying to master the 'weee'. Is it a 'whhh-eeEEE!' or a 'wuuu-EEEE!'?" he asked me.

The doors flew open once more and again he didn't leave. "Bye bye Captain Frupples," he yelled out to a college student who had squeezed off the train. "I don't think he appreciated me calling him Captain Frupples," he updated me.

Finally, after stops and stops of too-close-for-comfort with Dan, I finally got off at Boston Unversity. "We're gonna get to know each other very well by the end of the semester," Dan said. I just held my breath and stepped off onto the concrete followed by a crushed can of Coors hitting me at my ankles. I walked on.

I guess this is just an eye-opener for me. No more quiet Wisconsin north woods. This is the city, and these are the people. I hope I never see Dan again.