Rapid Train, Dark Train

With much quick walking, stair jumping, and diving between closing doors, I squeeze into the C train that I couldn’t even see as I descended below 8th Ave.
As the sounds of Departure by Akino Lee (possibly the best sounding GuitarFreaks song I’ve found), I reflect on a morning of cutting wires in our phone system like they were connected to a bomb. An afternoon of lugging iMacs and the Xserve around, and migrating bits of data from one to another. A dusk of again racking my brain as to why the store is faulting out, to discover the problem involved 1969, 11 years before I was born.
The train arrives at 42nd Street, and I begin my underground race, as though I were playing Crazy Taxi and trying to pass as many people as possible on the way to my destination. Not The Same by Ben Folds makes me wonder where the usual horde of Jesus freaks with shouting voices have gone off to.
The bum that I saw a few days ago, sitting sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs to the uptown N/W/R/Q line is back, still hoping that his mere inconvenience will invoke charity.
There’s an R leaving and that doesn’t bother me. The W pulls up just a little later and I lean onto a pole, as the stifling heat in this particular car makes me feel just a touch more tired.
A seat opens as we hit Lexington, and I’m more than happy to take it. Sadly, there’s no one remarkable on the train as we speed towards the daylight again.
I realized (again) today that life is too short to get hung up on fighting other people for less than important causes. All I’ve seen as of late are rash decisions, hurtful words, and tears with so much emotion behind them that sitting here thinking about them nearly brings me to tears.
My previous description of “daylight” is sorely wrong. What they say is true – it’s later than you think.
What has happened to us collectively when so many people let rage consume them on a regular basis? I’m certainly not excluding myself here. Fights are dragged out for days, weeks, months. Fought across multiple mediums.
We all seem to have endless amounts of drama baggage that goes back years and years. Why is it the only kind of baggage that never gets lost?
If you think this post is about you, you’re wrong.
It’s about everyone.
I’m out for now.