The Hubby Express

I'm the third one from the right, in the pink...

Okay, okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit. My skytrain experience is nothing like this....but I've often said that life is soooo much more interesting with exaggerations (ooohhh, and sound effects!!) For instance, if I said there was 20 people on the skytrain today, you'd think that was ho-hum boring, I know you would because I'm bored just thinking about it. BUT, if I said there was like 20 million people on the skytrain, you'd be intrigued. You'd know there weren't really that many people on the train, because that would be ridiculous - and impossible - but you let your mind go there anyways. And I get my point across... It's so funny that I think I might meet my future Mr. Hubby on the skytrain. But there are alot of men who use mass transit. And they're stuck there. On the train, sitting in front of me. It seems like the perfect place to hand pick Mr. Hubby. I should probably preface this post by saying that I am a freak magnet. No matter where I go, or whom I with I attract people who are a little...um...nuts. The skytrain is no different. For the most part, I just mind my own business on the train (oh, except for this gorgeous man who got on last week. He was absolutely perfect. I just stared at him. Tall, skin like milk chocolate and absolutely beautiful hands. The whole trip, I drooled. He didn't even acknowledge my existence. I thought about faking a coughing spell...but then something in me decided that me coughing up a lung would not be attractive...next time, I might try a sneezing attack. Sneezing is cute, right??) Oh where was I??? Oh yes, I do mind my own business. I read a book, or I do the crossword and sudoko in the free newspapers. I figure that my future Mr. Hubby will think "Oh, she's smart. Look, she's doing the crossword!" Although, just rereading what I wrote, that could work against me..."My grandma does crosswords, who does crosswords? What, does she knit too?" Hmmm, something to consider... Friday's are the best for entertainment on the train. Everyone has been out, having fun, drinking a few too many, and I'm sober. I've been at work. One night I get in a car with 5 guys who decided to take the party on board. And one starts hitting on me (can you say beer goggles? I'm dressed like a janitor, need I say more?) with this absolutely brilliant line, "Wow, you're too hot to work for a post office!" To which I respond, "Oh, that's not fair. Hot girls need jobs too, you know!" Then I continued on with my crossword. Another time, I sit beside this normal looking woman who begins to tell me that I am a gift from God. I have been sent into this world to save people like her. Wow! That's a whole lotta pressure. I smile and nod and pretend to be really interested in my crossword puzzle. But she continues, "No, I'm serious. God put you here for me. To save me. You're an angel. Because you know there are people out there who will TAKE YOU DOWN." By this time she's shouting "They will F#!* with your mind and they will destroy you. But not you. No, you're an angel." I was still smiling at this time. Maybe more so out of fear...but, then the one thing happened that I will not stand for. At all. She leans over and tries to help me with my crossword!!! Um, no. My crossword is my crossword. Go get your own. Crosswords are sacred. One packed and sweltering afternoon, this guy gets on behind me. And I can hear this clicking sound. Quiet enough, but annoying. Then, out of nowhere, this guy yells, "Geronimo!!" at the top of his lungs, and I think, "Oh shit, I'm going to die on the skytrain." The train goes silent. No one knows what to do. Does he have a gun? What was the clicking noise? Slowly, I turn around and see the guy...and he's got a...pen. Yup, he has a pen in his hand and he's clicking it. And I guess he yelled "Geronimo" just because it seemed like a good idea. He was smiling. He got off at the next stop without incident. I've seen things you should never see in public. I've seen fights. I've seen way too drunk 16 year old girls puke beside me. One guy cried the whole ride. What do you do with that? It's awkward. Do you offer a tissue? I've been asked if I'm the one driving the skytrain. Um, do you see a steering wheel (or a button, maybe? Like a green one for go, and a red one for stop?) Maybe he thought I was the one who announced all the stops, I don't know, but he was serious. I've smelled more armpits, actually body odor in general, than I care to admit. Maybe I should stop looking for Mr. Hubby on the train...