For several years I've enjoyed listening to a song by The Roches. "The Train" is a ballad of the frustrations of commuting. Until recently, the words and message were an abstract concept. Now I am a regular train commuter. With time, my train experiences are growing and the song resonates on a whole new level.
I've adjusted to the occasional sleeping homeless person, the man shadow boxing his demons in the reflection of the glass door, the people selling socks, asking for change, or speaking to unseen companions. But, until today, I had not encountered the wild children. Boarding the train at 5:20 pm, there were many empty seats and I joined the ear-budded riders with my podcast of "Hardcore History" describing the reign of Genghis Khan. At the next stop a family entered our car with two children, a girl of about 4 and a boy of perhaps 7 years of age. The kids screamed and ran up and down the car, they swung from the handholds, they climbed on the seats. At each stop the car filled and the parents tried to gain control. I'm usually pretty sympathetic to parents traveling with children, I actually volunteer to sit next to them on planes. But, as these kids clambered on the bench next to me, I seriously considered hopping out and moving to another car. The more the father tried to discipline him, the louder the boy screamed...and I mean SCREAMED.
At this time of day, the train is mainly filled with workers heading home after their long days of labor. We are a quiet and respectful group for the most part. There is rarely any conversation, any noise other than the recorded announcements of the next stop and admonishments not to lean against the doors. I had not realized how peaceful the ride was until that peace was disrupted.
I exited the train at my usual station, glad to leave the chaos behind. As the Roches sing,
"Once you step on
you might never get off
of the commuter train
it doesn't go very far away
but just the same
it s a trip and a half"
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