Two Ships

You meet some odd types on public transportation. That's the only way I know I'm normal, if I've met people who I think are strange. Now, I ordinarily minimize my contact, keeping it to staring from a distance if I can help it. If I'm engaged in some kind of conversation, I discourage it with short, closed-ended answers. It's rare that I find myself in any kind of prolonged exchange, but in truth those few times are rather stimulating.

I met such a character the other day. I was coming back from Hollywood, and tried to hurry and catch the train rather than wait for the next one. Regrettably, I missed the train and resigned myself to waiting along with the sorts of people that are in a Hollywood train station at one in the morning. They are not your garden variety humanity, by and large. This one particular kid, though, may be all too common of a personality.

First we were talking about a connecting bus line, and I tried to offer advice about him getting home. Because I'm interested in that stuff, I spoke freely rather than trying to let the conversation coast to a stop. Before I knew it, he was repaying my kindness by advising me about how I ought to proceed if I should decide to indulge in drug use for the first time. He also spoke of his recent first experience with ecstasy, and I became progressively more alarmed. When he started speaking about street fighting with another guy, I was entirely ill at ease.

Naturally I found myself sharing a train car with him all the way back. I made a comment about the car doors closing on my arm once when I thought they would snap open to let me in. I think he misunderstood me, because he started pulling the doors open while the train was in motion. When he rushed off to catch the aforementioned connecting bus, I was glad to see him go. What a crazy kid he was. I wonder how he'll make out in life.