Train Privacy

Living in Chicago, I learned the hard lesson that if you don't want someone to sit next to you on a train you have to do one of three things:

1. Be crazy. Openly unabashedly bonkers.

2. Smell. Like feces and vomit and BO all mixed together. Or you can just reek of dehydrated urine. That works too.

3. Cry.

In Chicago no one will intentionally sit near a weeping woman. They give you space. They leave you alone. Once or twice I was offered napkins but mostly they leave you be. In New York, that is not the case. 

I was on the 6 line heading to a show one Friday night, feeling exceptionally down and was actively trying to hide my tears.

I am all about the fashion choice of giant sun glasses. Not only are they really flattering to my long face and big nose, but I love them.

When I moved to the big apple, one of my mothers friends advise me to "always wear sun glasses in the subway. It will save you from making eye contacts with the pimps". While that is also true it is a story for another day.

On this night, I was wearing them for privacy - not fashion.  So here I was crying behind my giant shades on a crowded rush hour subway car and some dear old man gets up in my face to ask if I'm okay. 

Of course my initial reaction is to say yes, I'm fine. But I'm not fine. I'm ugly crying on a 6 train. But lovely old man, what are you gonna do about it?  Just let me cry in peace. 

I miss Chicago.