This weekend Our Rusty mentioned that my train commute this time last year made for good blog stories, so this post is dedicated to him. I drove the Roommate's car to the dealership today and dropped it off for a lookie-see since he's trying to sell it and that damn "check engine" light is back on. Not a good selling feature. So instead of waiting around for hours I took the MAX 80 blocks to my neighborhood gym. Let me tell you, the crowd riding in from Gresham isn't a particularly pretty one and since I am unemployed and shiftless I fit right in. I am on day 4 of my hair washing strike I blended in nicely with the other train riders, so I was glad I didn't stick out like a sore thumb. There was a rather gangly looking woman sitting across from me wearing a sports bra and a pair of stained jeans held up by a belt with a cannabis belt buckle. Classy. Her 2 year old kept grabbing the folds in her exposed gut and kneading the wad like bread dough. Also there was a well dressed and stereotypically sassy young black lady who was snaking her head and bitching someone out on her cell phone. "Oh no, you will not hang up on me. Not unless you want all your fucking shit on the lawn when you get home". She was evidently angry that her wrong-doing man was supposed to pick her up so she could get her car but instead she was riding the train with the rest of us low-lifes. Every time she mentioned "shit" or "fuck" the classy woman with her cannabis belt buckle would shoot her a dirty look, like her kid never heard those words before. When I told the to the Roommate he added "Like the kid hadn't SEEN those words either".
Surprisingly, no one got of the train with me at the gym. Interesting.
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