I stepped onto the train expecting to have a row to myself. Standing in the aisle, awkwardly, I surveyed the car and realized that I was either going to have to sit with someone, or wander aimlessly about the cars until I found a less populated area. With the contents of my orange backpack poking me and my dad's old, brown suitcase (that has been around the world and back) tugging at my arm (begging to be dropped) I decided against the search option and sat next to the least hostile person I could find.
I looked to my left and without saying a word, a kind-looking gentleman and I had a silent conversation. I pointed to the seat, fixing my face in a questioning expression. He smiled briefly and gave me a slight nod before returning to The Washington Post.
It took me a few minutes to get myself situated. I noticed the gentleman was surveying me - or perhaps he was just looking. I locked eyes with him again because his mouth had opened slightly. I was under the impression that he wanted to say something. But, no. He said nothing. Turned back to his newspaper articles. I put my bags away and plopped down in what was now my seat. Glanced around, checked out the people around me, and pulled out my copy of The Thirteenth Tale.
It wasn't long until I became completely absorbed in the story, almost forgetting where I was. Every once in a while a glint of light would catch my eye and I'd gaze out the window, enjoying the view of....er...some body of water.
I wish I could be more like my father - he can identify any body of water just by knowing what state he's in and what direction he's traveling. I would need a map. And he just knows.
Every time I looked out the window, the gentleman would look at me. He didn't glance quickly just to see if I was looking at him. He'd look up and just continue for a few moments before looking out the window or going back to whatever it was he was doing.
I'm not quite sure why, but this guy was interesting. Maybe because he didn't make small talk. I hate small talk. Maybe it was because he hadn't said a word at all. Or maybe it was because I had a 6-hour journey ahead of me and I needed something, other than the book, to entertain me for a while.
It was then I decided to play a game. I was going to find out as much as I could about this guy without asking him a single question.
And....here's what I got:
He was wearing a business suit. Ironed shirt, sharp tie, polished shoes. He was in his mid to late 40s. Maybe even in his 50s. He had dark hair that was just starting to evenly sprout little white hairs. He looked good for his age. He was fit - not muscular. Not scrawny. He wore rectangular glasses that didn't have frames.
He carried an attache.
Total business man.
He read all of the sections of The Washington Post (including the comics! how cute is that?) except for the front page, metro, auto, real estate, and sports. He sighed, deeply and loudly, in between each section. I had to keep myself from laughing. He did it every single time.
I couldn't decide if he was deaf or not. He had a blackberry...but both deaf and hearing people use them. Hmm.
He was Italian! Or, at least he could read Italian. From the looks of it he either taught Italian and was grading a students' paper or he had written the paper and was correcting his own work. For a second I thought that maybe he didn't speak English...but then I remembered he had been reading The Post. OK.
Silent Italian Guy kept pulling out all of these papers and booklets from his attache, most of them in Italian. Every now and then he pulled out a map or driving directions. Aha! His stop was in Philadelphia. As soon as he got off the train he was going to rent a car and drive 30 minutes to his destination.
SIG was kind of anxious. He kept checking his watch.
This guy entertained me for a solid 2 hours. After he left I took his seat by the window and hoped no one weird would sit with me. No such luck. A creepy owl-eyed lady that smelled like moth balls practically threw herself in the seat, coming dangerously close to my personal bubble. She sat there huffing and puffing for about 20 minutes. I guess she ran? I don't know. She glared at me through her thick lenses. Internally I rolled my eyes and hoped she'd get off at the next stop. Every time she shifted around I got a whiff of that awful moth ball smell. She wiggled around a lot. Wrinkling my nose I turned slightly away from her and kept myself in my fantasy world for the rest of the trip.
She ended up being there until I got off the train.
Oooh! We passed through The Hell Gate Bridge in New York. Hell's Gate! How cool is that?!
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