A few weeks ago, as the 4:40 train arrived, I sat quietly reading my book. The lights went out. I sighed and waited for the SWAT team to arrive. As they ran by me, one of the team members looked down at me and winked in recognition. The team swarmed the train, grabbed the criminal and were gone by the time I finished forming the realization that I have a very odd life.
Today I entered the train as I always do. I opened Harry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban. I was at my favorite part. Sirius and Lupin had just raised their wands against Peter Pettigrew when...
"My 17-year old loves those books."
A stranger had sat down to chat. I politely closed my book. We talked literature until he reached his stop.
No sooner had he stood than an older gentleman slipped into his seat. "I...Union Station....train."
He was struggling to find the english words. His accent was european and he didn't speak spanish. I asked his destination. "Chicago."
When the train arrived at Union, I walked him to the ticket counter. I watched until I was certain that he no longer needed my help.
On the train home, I finally found a moment to read. I finished the climactic moment and began the book's unwinding sequences (I've forgotten the word for this in english. It's disenlacer in spanish. Does anyone know the english equivalent?).
As I walked to my car, another gentleman appeared at my side. "Do you work in a children's hospital?" he asked in reference to my shoulder bag. I replied in the affirmative. He told me the story of his 8-year old son who had spent several months in the NICU. He ended with a humble expression of gratitude.
People seem to recognize me wherever I go, even though I have lived a very simple life. In New York City, a woman stopped me to ask for help with her cell phone. In a grocery store when I was 12, a woman cried to me about her impending divorce. I have had mothers in parks ask me to babysit while they run a quick errand. During my years in the Dominican Republic, more than one person told me that they had dreamed me years before my arrival. In any quiet moment of my life, I am approached by strangers who seem to know me and need just a few minutes of my time.
Yes, I live a very strange life, but it's an exceptionally good one.
14 comments:
Strangely, the English term for that part of the story is a French word, denouement. See? A degree in English is worth something. Ok, maybe not.
Hey there! This is my first time stopping by. Not sure why I took so long. I’ve been a fan of your comments for a while now. But I guess you don’t get to be reigning procrastinator of the year and get nominated (fingers crossed, eyes to the sky) for procrastinator of the decade for no reason. Anyway, here’s my threat, “I’ll be stopping by with nothing meaningful to say in the very near future!”
You must simply exude kindness and approachability and that is what prompts strangers to talk to you and instantly trust you. I think that's a real gift.
girlspit-I'm so glad that in English, we do use the French word because I was really disturbed when I could only think of the French term and not the English one.
Still very jealous of that wink.
Groan. Another french word. Have we not already proven that my french is atrocious? Coming soon - this blog entirely in languages not requiring excessive vowels...
Jon - please leave any and all extraneous comments. As I recently feel like Miss Bates in Emma (shame on anyone who doesn't know they're Jane Austen) - we both shall have very little meaningful to say.
Cate - honey - you have to believe me! It was very asexual. Had you been there, he totally would have wanted your skinny...well, you know the rest.
(Padding my own comments...)
Jon! I just visited your website and, thanks to the info you provided, realized I HAVE been stalking you for several years now. What a small world!
Didn't know about the potty training thing, though, so maybe I'll stop popping out of alleyways now that I know the wetting thing isn't because I'm so awesomely, Glenn-Close-ish scary.
Is that enough advertising?
BTW - if you had comments engaged, I would have left this little tidbit on your blog instead of mine.
I don't know my Jane Austen. I feel too much shame to continue this comment.
(what’s a little padding among friends/stalkers? (I think I’m one of the worst offenders though, I pad like there’s no tomorrow because I operate under the assumption that when the world ends, we will all be sorted out by the volume of comments on our blogs. Something to think about…))
Yeah, blogger is free, and thus far I have been too lazy to do anything about it, so I live with their planned maintenance. I’ll be fiddling with it sometime next week to “upgrade” certain things. Anyway, it’s nice to finally put a name to that unidentified person in the bushes. I’ve been through a myriad of stalkers in the past, and they usually give up after a week or so once they realize that all I do is come home from work, surf the net a little, watch whatever game is on TV and then just go to sleep. I respect your tenacity, that’s all I’m trying to say.
I try. Lucky for me, I'm an ace with surveillance, so I can be at home but still lurking. The technology age has been so useful for the amateur stalker. Right now, I am checking out your refrigerator and leaving little notes on all your items telling you which disease they may cause...
I appreciate that kind of thoughtfulness. Now I can make better decisions about what I’m going to have for dinner…. Hmmm, do I want to risk Salmonella tonight? Or perhaps I’m more in the mood to chance Mad Cow disease. A well informed choice is a blessing, not a curse. I have to admit, it’s really nice to have a dietician as a stalker.
Thanks. I started the Socially Responsible Stalkers of America (SRSA) a few years ago. It's a burgeoning movement. Most of this blog is actually about stalking events, but I haven't dared admit that before this. We are planning a rally, but it's hard to agree on a day and time when we're not needed for general scary behavior - stalking requires much more work than most people realize.
Anyway, it's nice to chat. Usually, I'm so busy with the heavy breathing in the phone, skulking in the bushes, and murdering of beloved pets that I never really get to know my prey.
(It is very sad that this comment stream is the most creative thing I have posted in weeks...)
Ahh the SRSA… I’m quite familiar. My group, the Stalker’s Prey Against Mistreatment (SPAM) is a staunch supporter of SRSA. Although my group has been largely unsuccessful. I’m not sure why though, we’re very 21st century in that we send out all invitations to our meeting via email. No one ever replies though. One of these days I’ll figure out what the problem is.
If you ever get around to kidnapping me, it’s nice to know we won’t have to deal with that awkward, “Who are you?” conversation now that the ice has been broken.
(you never know where the creativity will come from. I’m most creative when I’m interacting in a conversation. I’ve been kind of disappointed with my posts on the whole. What I really enjoy are the conversations that take place in the comments.)
A comment on the comments conversation: have either of you two stalkers read Jasper Fforde's Something Rotten? Some useful detail on stalking as a career choice, ways to advance, choosing your target, getting sponsorship etc. Just a helpful tip. Me, I'm after a SpecOps post. Maybe something in the ChronoGuard. I like the idea that even if I never turned up on time, at least I'd have a great excuse.
Thanks for the book suggestion! We are currently building the SRSA library - so many kids these days just aren't well-versed in the basics.
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