Ok, so... the inspiration behind this blog has come from a series of hysterical/life-altering encounters I have experienced on public modes of transportation (planes, trains, and automobiles... remember that movie??) I'm not going to bombard you with all these tales at once, but I thought it'd be a good time to introduce story number one: Charlie.
Ah, Charlie. So during the summer of 2006 I was interning in NYC. Being the impoverished college student that I was (or the impoverished graduate that I AM) meant that living in the city was out of the question. I decided to stay with my bestest bud and her aunt in Jersey and bus it into work everyday. Now, being a friendly girl from Maine, I usually speak to everyone I see. I have no problems with strangers. I did learn, however, that these rules of friendliness do NOT apply in the Big Apple.
So one day, I get on the bus and sit down next to this man. I look directly ahead and say nothing, as I have been instructed to do by EVERYONE. Then it happens... I feel his eyes boring a hole into the side of my head. Finally he says, "Helen?" To which I reply, "No, I'm sorry." And the conversation goes...
"No, I thought your name was Helen. You know, like Helen of Troy?"
"Ya, right, the face that launced a thousand ships. Cute." I turn and look ahead. Face=red.
"What is your name?" Ohh of course... we couldn't just end there, could we? Nope.
"Mariah."
"OH, Maria?"
"Nope, MARIAH."
"Right, Maria."
"K, sure."
"Maria, can I read your palm please?"
Oh wow... let's see, what can I tell Charlie? I have a skin disorder where in fact my skin falls off or perhaps turns to skittles when touched? Hmm... might not work. I give him my hand.
"You have a long life ahead of you... you will get married to your boyfriend. You have a boyfriend, yes?"
"Uhhh. No." God I love how this guy operates.
"Ohh... can I call you sometime?"
"I don't have a phone." (Not even a lie.)
"Email?"
"Uhhh sure... here it is."
Why I didn't lie and give him a fake address I will never know. Off the bus we go.
Later that day, I get an email. Want to do lunch? Ohhh crap. I hate being polite. I turn to Martha, my co-worker, and ask her for advice.
"Sweetie, you're in NYC. Ignore the bastard."
Crap.
So I do.
Next day, I get on the bus, sit with some unassuming man who doesn't appear to want to chit chat. Fall asleep. Bus brakes and I hear, "MARIA! Wake up. I saved you a seat."
NO, BUT SERIOUSLY???? This happened.
"Uh Charlie, I'm sleeping? Slash trying to learn Portuguese?" (Also true. I'm a nerd. I had a self-teach book).
"Ohh... well, ok." He saunters off.
Get off the bus, heading through the subway. I hear Charlie yelling my name. My pace quickens. Finally, he grabs my arm.
"You didn't respond to my email!"
"Sorry, Charlie. So busy yesterday. You know how it is as an intern."
"Right. Lunch today?"
"Ya, um, dinner plans with the boss. I'm just that spectacular at what I do that they've decided to wine and dine me."
"Right. OK, well, um, I'll see you on the bus."
And that was the last time I spoke with Charlie. And the first time I learned that killing one with kindness=not the best policy. Not in the Big Apple, folks. Headphones on, gaze straight ahead. Watch your back.
Similar stories or adventures from others?
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5 comments:
How about the 55 year old retired chef named Ralph from NYC that I sat next to on the coach to Northampton that regailed me with stories about how his wife's ex-husband couldn't please her sexually ("poor bastard") and THAT'S why she cheated on him and married Ralph? He rocks her world, you know. That's what saves marriages, Mariah.
God help us all....
Oh wow.... That is a phenomenal contribution to the blog of insane stories. That's even BETTER than Charlie. I might give an award to the best story I hear.
I am now going to get fired because I am giggling loudly in my office when I'm supposed to be creating a file drawer. As for a funny story on a mode of transport...I can only think of the time I sat next to an old lady on an airplane who reeked of cocktail sauce. I will never understand why, or be able to get the smell out of my nose.
on a flight from OR to Boston, I sat next to a guy who told me all the horror stories of people he had sat next to on planes in the past - for 6 hours (there were interspersed stories of being homeless and living in a van and drinking out of frisbees)! And as we were landing he explained what he would tell future plane-mates about me....
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love all these stories!!!!!!!
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