This morning, using my trademark Danny Zucco (I’m also sporting a popped collar now) and Baby from Dirty Dancing saunter, I stroll up to my big green chariot and notice it looks uncharacteristically empty.

Have the other commuters melted?

Where can I find their accessories?

Is this the 6:48 train? 

Did they find ham?

I’m starting to grow concerned.

Not for the well being of my travel companions, but perhaps the fact they found the pork and neglected to share.

Or the fact that these seemingly innocent puddles may have already been looted.

I shake off that ridiculous idea and then proceed to examine two puddles, just in case.

Then it hits me.

I’m early for the train! It’s 6:00am.

None of those people are here.

Or are they?

As I continue my stroll, I make note to check all the puddles, just in case. 

It wouldn’t be the first time a 6:48 was ready to go before a 6:18.

I’m no mathlete, but that’s just not right.

Neither is Trump running for President, working on Fridays and trampoline as an Olympic sport, but I digress.

So, there I am, about to board.

I’m feeling rather pleasant on this horrific weather day for two reasons. 

I’m looking forward to the inevitable delays, and I know any kind of wet weather will ruin the lives of my fellow commuters in some capacity. 

That’s if they haven’t already melted.

 I see the friendly Customer Service Ambassador inside the accessibility car and give him a head nod. 

With the grace of a duck (cute but not necessarily agile) I manage not to make direct eye contact. 

The head nod is the quintessential gesture made by commuters.

There are several others that I could share, but I’ll leave that up to interpretation.

Allow me to decipher the acknowledgement code for you.

Commuter Acknowledgement Code

A glare. I see you. You are not important enough to acknowledge, but you ignorantly stepped into my line of vision. Stay away from me. Also works well with Police Officers and any type of person of authority.

A head nod. I see you. You are somewhat important to acknowledge, but stay away from me. Also works well for coworkers and service providers.

A smirk. I see you. You are reasonably important to acknowledge because I recognize you from commuting. And you look just as disenchanted as I do. But you still need to stay away from me. Also works well for your Spouse or Children.

A half grin. I see you. I don’t know who you are, but I’ve decided part of my commuting enjoyment for the day is to make you feel uncomfortable. And you continue to stare at me. And I continue to smile. But you need to stay away from me. Also works well for your closest “work friends” and pets.

A big smile. I see you. I likely have no idea who you are, but it’s a safe bet to stay away from me. I’m so going to write about you. Make sure you follow my blog. Also works well for anyone with a pulse. And a story to share. 

They may not know it yet, but now my blog has become a humanitarian effort.

I’m so proud.

A “hello!”:  I see this person but I’m not comfortable with the level of human interaction this greeting is a prelude to.   In fact, I’m kinda annoyed that these ignorant friendly folk ruined the flow of my blog. You should probably stay away from these people. No good comes from idle chatter. 

I guess it’s ok to say hello to the elderly, but ONLY if you have a pre-existing relationship with them. Or the person who signs off on your paycheque. This rule becomes null and void if they offer you bacon. 

As I waddle past my CSA, he runs out of the car to greet me.

Damn me and my duck-like speed.

It doesn’t help that the past 4 days, I’ve smelled like fried chicken. 

He broke the code!

A head nod is NOT a catalyst for further idle chatter/conversation.  

I contemplate making flyers of the Commuter Code and leaving them at stations.

“You’re the only one here!” He says.

I mull this over. 

What starts out as a smirk gradually escalates into half grin.

“Maybe everyone else found a more effective means of transportation!” 

Big smile. 

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2 thoughts on “A story for a rainy day…

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