Tonight I took the DART Red Line Rail to the Mockingbird Station to meet one of my friends at the Angelika Film Center (Dallas) to watch “Another Earth” (more to come on the movie later).
Upon arriving at the Parker Road Station (which my new apartment is LITERALLY only five minutes away from!) about four minutes before the train was set to depart at 8:25, I heard the little announcement that said the train would be leaving in THREE minutes. I dashed to the kiosk to buy a ticket, but this gangsta kid approached me screaming “Hey!” and tried to get me to buy a Day Pass ($4) from him for $3. I was shuffling quarters in my pocket and was like “What? Do you work here?” He responded with a “Nigga, I work errwrr.” Yeah, definitely. I told him no and that I wasn’t comfortable with the situation. He followed me to the kiosk trying to get me to buy this fake ticket (I’m just assuming it was fake considering he was trying to hock it to me on my way to the kiosk.) and I was like “NO!” He then ran off to meet his buddy in the distance. They both started giving me dirty looks and I was thinking “I’m going to get shot. I’m going to get shot. And die. I’m going to get shot and die. I’M GOING TO GET SHOT AND FUCKING DIE!!!”
I ran onto my train and sat down. I didn’t get shot and I didn’t die (just in case that part wasn’t clear). The Mockingbird Station is like seven stops away from the Parker Road Station, and on the way there, I realized I was sitting amongst a hell of a lot of black folks. I have nothing against black people, but I thought it was kind of odd. By the time my train arrived at the Mockingbird Station, I counted 26 black people in the front car with me. Yes, I was the only white person. I found this experience interesting. It’s like we were racially segregated (not including me, who of course didn’t get the memo) like back in the slave-days, except this time it wasn’t forced, it was voluntary. I looked back on the train as far as I could see as I was getting off and everyone in all of the other cars was white. I thought it was totally crazy.
My friend Brittani and I got some Starbucks (I got a Grande Caramel Light Frappuccino with extra caramel. This way I don’t ingest the extra calories that are in the regular Caramel Frappuccino, but when I put the extra caramel in, which is the part I want the most, it jacks the calories right back up to around the same amount contained in the regular Caramel Frappuccino, but it tastes more caramel-y. I’m a genius, I know.) and then went to see our movie. We got popcorn and a drink. I haven’t actually paid for popcorn at a movie theatre in ages since I WORK at a movie theatre. It was kind of weird paying for it.
The movie was decent. I was expecting it to be more about the “other Earth” than it was about the inner psyche of the main character, but I wasn’t entirely disappointed in the movie as a whole. I think it’s definitely worth renting, but it’s probably one of those movies you watch and multitask at the same time it’s on. (Anyone here knit?)
Then after the movie got out I had like six minutes to get back onto the DART Rail to go back to the Parker Road Station. However, my clock was off again. I ran to the kiosk so I could at least be a bit early for my train this time, but right when I got to the kiosk and started shoving my money into the machine, my train screeched to a stop below me (the theatre and other shopping outlets are all on a level above where the DART is). I looked around frantically for a staircase to get down to my train before it sped off (they only sit there for like 10 seconds if you’re LUCKY). The down escalator was closed for maintenance and the “manual” staircases were too far away for me to be able to run to them, run down them, and run to my train and make it in time. My only other option was to go down the UP escalator. I made a split-second decision and started sprinting down the up escalator. Oh, my GOD. If you want a workout, go run down an up escalator sometime. I felt like I was getting NOWHERE. A man at the bottom of the staircase was screaming “Hurry, hurry, hurry! Come on! It’s about to leave!!!” as I was running down the stairs that were simultaneously running away from me. When I finally got to the bottom of the stairs I felt like I was going to die, but I managed to make it onto the train right before the doors closed. It was so intense. I basically ran down like six flights of stairs in less than 10 seconds. (Hold your applause, please.)
Then when I was on the train this teenage kid asked me to borrow my phone (Ha! Hilarious.) and I was like “Sorry, my battery is seriously about to die on me.” (It really was, and the phone obeyed my command and shut down about two minutes later.).
Right after ^ the kid got off at his stop, the automated train speaker said the name of the current stop followed by (at the same time the train was taking off) “Final Destination: Parker Road Station”…and then about 3/4ths of the lights shut off. I was like “You’re kidding me, right?”
I was convinced I was about to die. (I didn’t die this time, either. In case that wasn’t clear. But I did spend the rest of my train-ride thinking of all the badass ninja moves I could execute in order to survive a train-crash, none of which I think would actually ever be capable of.)
Needless to say, as I’m sure you’ve already gathered it was an interesting night…IT WAS AN INTERESTING NIGHT.
I went to Dallas today, and as I was looking out of one of the windows of the 8th floor of a skyscraper at the life happening below me, above me, right next to me, and everywhere else, I realized something: I am not alone.
I gazed down at the concrete below me and wondered about the woman wearing the purple blouse. Who is she? Where is she going? What is she thinking about? Is she happy? And I thought about the thousands of cars that drove past me during the two hours I sat there. I thought about the people and their clothes and their cars and their cell phones and their houses and their husbands and wives and children and their dogs and cats and goldfish and their jobs and their hopes and their dreams and their endless drive to live.
I didn’t know any of those people. I have never locked eyes with them or shaken their hands or had coffee with them at 3:00 in the morning at IHOP or Denny’s. And I will never lock eyes with all of them or shake hands with all of them or have coffee with all of them at 3:00 in the morning at IHOP or Denny’s.
But none of that matters. Because each of the souls driving in their cars or walking down the street or sitting in the same room as I was touched me in that moment. They were important to me, for however brief a time, as I sat there and I thought of them.
These people have no idea who I am or that I was looking out of one of the windows of the 8th floor of a skyscraper at the life happening below me, above me, right next to me, and everywhere else.
But I was thinking about them.
And none of them had even the slightest idea that I was thinking about them, which means that at any given moment, I also am touching someone else and am important to someone else because they are thinking about me.
1 year ago
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