Adventures on the T.

Let me start by saying I have been completely inactive today. We're talking approx. 7 hours on the couch watching bad TV.

Moving right along...

Great story for you guys. I mean, the point of this blog IS to post great stories to make you laugh or think or, I don't know, distract you from work.

Saturday I get myself all dolled up for the Make-A-Wish Gala (huge success, by the way) and hope on the T. When I get on the T there is no one else that gets on but a mildly attractive male with somewhat bad boy tendencies (be still my immature heart). He sits directly across from me. I exchange a few flirtatious glances and then nervously read the ads on the wall as I am known by ex boyfriends as the "shifty eye girl." It's a bizarre thing, I know. I just have a hard time making eye contact for long periods of time without blushing.

We get to the Harvard T stop and the doors open. Two elderly Chinese women get on and sit DIRECTLY. BESIDE. ME. There is an entire train to choose from but they are literally on top of me. I think nothing of this because I have weird experiences constantly with perfect strangers. The woman next to me pulls out a tupperware container and out of the corner of my eye I try to identify what she's about to eat. It sort of looks like grapefruit but I don't want to get caught staring so I look off into space. A split second later I look directly at bad boy sitting across from me and realize he is staring at the woman next to me with his mouth wide open in that appalled, "what the hell?" way. I turn to my left, look down, and watch- horrified- as she cracks hard boiled egg after hard boiled egg open and then throws the shells down on the floor ontop of my foot and nice nylons. My eyes move from egg to foot and back up to the guy who is now staring directly at me, laughing silently, shoulders shaking. I immediately burst into laughter and bite my bottom lip as hard as possible. I can't even bare to look at him now because there is no way we'll make it the rest of the ride without appearing rude. And, since I do not speak Chinese (and I'm assuming this dude doesn't either), there's no way to politely ask this woman to stop dumping the shells on my foot as I need to work a black tie event at the Intercontinental Hotel in approximately 30 minutes.

I finally land at my stop, exit the T and laugh til I cry, walking in the rain down Atlantic Avenue.

What. Is. My. Life?