Subway Platform Confessions

by M. Lizabeth Currain

 

I think HBO needs to revamp their Taxicab Confessions show; they can have it take place on the subway platform late at night and just wait for drunk people to spill their guts. Hey HBO, do you have any openings in the development department? I’m available and chock full of ideas!

After my date and I parted ways in the subway on Friday evening (Saturday morning, I guess), I was waiting for the train, about to put my earbuds in, when a gentleman approached me. He was youngish–I later found out he was 24–drunk, and not dressed very well. I mean he was wearing ill fitting jeans, a black t-shirt with an open, long sleeved white, collared shirt, and ratty-ass boat shoes. There is nothing worse that ratty boat shoes with ill-fitting, light colored jeans. Do these guys not watch television or look in a mirror? He was white and tall. Very plain Jane.

He started talking to me about about his own failed trainmance (my words, not his! Although, lets make it happen people!). Apparently he had started talking to a girl while waiting for the train; my guess is that she was humoring him, much like I was doing; and when the train came, they got on separate cars. Never a good idea. Always get on the car they are getting on. That’s like Trainmance 101. In a last minute surge of boldness he decided to switch cars, but by the time he made it off one, the doors were closing on the other. He said something about how they put their hands up to the glass and looked at each other as the train pulled away. I threw up in my mouth a little bit. I told him it sounded a lot like the movie Sliding Doors. I’m not sure he understood what I was talking about.

We introduced ourselves, let’s say his name was Ace. I asked Ace if he was from Massachusetts because of his boat shoes. He had sort of a sloppy, WASP look to him. Turns out he is from Chicago. I hope Ace isn’t representative of the men in Chicago, just sayin’. Apparently he’s a special education teacher for Teach for America. It’s shocking to me how they will let anyone teach special education. I remember when I applied for the NYC Teaching Fellows four years ago they said that I would be qualified to teach kindergarten and special education. For some reason, I would want someone with more than a Bachelor’s in Fashion Design interacting with my special needs child every day. Maybe that’s just me. I certainly wouldn’t trust, boat shoes-sliding doors-drunk-Ace to teach my special needs kid. He could barely dress himself to go out on a Friday night! That does not bode well for his competence in the classroom.

He asked me if I had a boyfriend. He told me that I looked like the kind of girl that would have four boyfriends; to which I said “no”. Then he said three, then two, then one…I had to break it to him that sadly no, I wasn’t hoarding boyfriends. I kind of wonder what part of me gives off the vibe that I amass boyfriends like I do shoes. Maybe it’s my eyeliner. He asked me what train stop was mine and when I told him, he said, “no one’s getting murdered tonight”.  I’ll give Ace credit for that one, it made me laugh. Mainly because he sort of looked like he might have experience “forget-me-nowing” girls in bars.

We both got on the train and he sat next to me. Ace asked me if I was inviting him back to my place. I had to let him down gently. He said, “that’s too bad, you’ll never get to kiss these lips”. I replied, “You’ll never get to kiss mine and mine are way better”.  He said I was right and that it made him sad. That Ace was a real charmer. He got off at the stop before me and we said our goodbyes.

Oh Ace, if only you had looked like this

 

Oh, Jon Kortajarena, I have never wanted to be a straw so bad in. my. life.

 

then you could have come home with me.