There really is nothing more poetic than commuting in a monsoon. Everyone is dashing around, trying to pretend it’s not really a big deal, but if you happen to get roped into conversation with anyone, it’s all you can think to talk about.
Anywho, sorry for the gap in posting. Monday I had nothing to say, Tuesday I forgot my phone so I missed out on my train ride writing time, and yesterday my bus never showed up (Yup.) so I worked from home and didn’t really have time for personal writing. (Though I did get to go for a run and eat lunch with the fiance…so, not all bad!)
Commuting is a weird experience. I’ll be honest, most of the time I dislike it, though using it as blogging time has given it more purpose. But the really interesting thing is studying the culture. Because commuters are a different culture than people who drive ten minutes to work each morning. They have their own set of laws, values, and etiquette.
One time the fiance and I went out in the city with our friends Bryan, Craig, and James. James is also a commuter, so when the ticket collector came around on the train ride home, James and I pulled out our monthly passes while everyone handed over their single-ride tickets.
At this point, Craig pipes up, “Do you guys feel better.than us because you have monthly passes?”
James quickly said no, but I said, “Yes. Well, not better but stronger. I think I’m stronger than you.” I was kind of joking, but also kind of serious.
Because commuting can suck. You’re at the mercy of a system than often proves itself unreliable, you have to operate on someone else’s schedule, and in general the whole process can be largely uncomfortable. You have to learn to be comfortable with this discomfort, and that takes a certain amount of mental strength.
Or at the very least, a really awesome book.
Of course, I can’t complain too much. I have a job, and I’m living somewhere that makes me very happy (well, the people there make me very happy anyway).
Now if only I could dry out my jeans, we would be in business.