Riding Backwards

In the battle between quality and quantity public transportation has always leaned much closer to quantity.  That isn’t to say that the new trains, buses, or subways that get rolled out every so often aren’t an improvement but in their attempts to accommodate the ever-increasing commuter crowd certain sacrifices must be made.  As a result, seats are sometimes installed in slightly inelegant positions.

Commuters will go through great lengths to avoid sitting in an awkward position but when it comes down to claiming that one awkward seat at the front of the car or relegating yourself to a commute spent leaning against a wall next to the bathroom you choose the awkward seat.  The painfully awkward drawback of the seat in question is not so much that it sends you barreling backwards towards your destination so much as it forces you to face each and every other passenger as you do so.  You're not afraid of a little awkward eye contact though so you decide to take your chances.  

The whistle blows and like a little kid strapped into the back of the family station wagon you embark on your backwards journey.  You pull out your phone and attempt to immerse yourself in a book, a news article, a funny video, anything that will stop you from picking up your head and awkwardly making eye contact with person after person for the next hour and twelve minutes. 

You’re doing well you’ve already looked through an entire gallery of funny pictures, checked your Facebook, and read two hard-hitting news articles.  You’re sure you’ve almost made it so you glance at the top of your screen for the time.  It’s 7:51 and you boarded the train at 7:45.  This is bad.  The voice inside you screams, “DON’T DO IT!” but it’s too late.  You’ve inadvertently locked eyes with that woman in the big hat with the long black hair poking out of her chin.  It’s the exact opposite of pleasant yet you can’t look away. 

Eventually you are able to tear your eyes free but they’re beyond your control now.  Your errant eyes continue to feverishly scan the crowd.  It’s like looking at the sun, there’s no safe place to allow your gaze to fall and it burns.  The person next to you is wearing sunglasses but even in your desperation you refuse to stoop that low.  You can’t just steal a pair of sunglasses because you’re uncomfortable. 

By now you’ve given up entirely.  You allow your eyes to dart rampantly from the mad hatter to that one person who is already awkwardly looking back at you, to the man on his laptop, to that person who kind of looks familiar but you can’t put your finger on why so you just stare hoping it’ll come back to you but it doesn’t and then she looks up and sees you staring and then your head explodes. 

Slowly you regain consciousness and when the blackness subsides you thank the great train gods that it’s all over.  You stand up finally turning your back to the now painfully familiar faces and move towards the doorway to your stop on the wonderfully mind-numbing monotony that is the daily commute.