Lemon yellow sun, arms stretched in a V

I spoke on the Metro today.

It’s true.

I spoke to a stranger during my morning commute. Do not be alarmed! The metro train did not explode, nor did our commute suddenly come to a screeching halt (well, no more than usual anyway). It turns out that nothing really extraordinary happens if you speak on the Metro trains, other than garnering wishes for a good morning, perhaps even being alerted to an interesting newspaper article you might have otherwise missed. Really. I am not lying.

It all started when I boarded as I normally do, that is bag flapping, WaPo Express flying while running toward the closing doors. As I collected myself and moved toward the center of the car, like the good girl I am, an olderish gentleman offered me the seat next to him. Usually I decline such offers, being able-bodied and with only a handful of stops before my exit, but I was hot from the walk to the station and a seat actually sounded wonderful. So after a second’s hesitation, I took him up on his offer.

Eyeing my Express, he says “I read better sitting down anyway”.

At first I did not know what to do. I imagined what other commuters would do in this situation. Do I stare at him blankly? Pretend I don’t hear? Scoff at him quietly and pull out my iPod? Instead I answered, “Actually, I can’t read sitting down, I get car sick”.

[Moving to the side] “Well, you better get up then!”

A joke? Or is he serious? Being new to this sort of situation I am unsure. I decide to stay put and offer up a quiet giggle. He grins. I guess I picked the right response.

He returns to his (full-size, 35¢) paper and flips the page. After a few moments he laughs. He looks to me and even though I am digging through my bag for my lip gloss, I see him out of the corner of my eye. He wants to share. He laughs again and this time I look up. The stranger gestures toward a headline in the paper, mumbles something about the topic and says “It’s this paragraph here that’s really funny.” And then he began to read. To me. An excerpt of an interesting article. On the Metro. Before 9am. I am totally serious.

The paragraph was in fact funny, and I responded as such. We spoke a bit about the subject of the article and went back to our silent interests. But the barrier had been broken. As the train lurched along the tracks, more conversation and pleasantries were exchanged. It wasn’t forced or obligatory, but if a sight or a commonality struck either of us as interesting, the thought was shared.

As I gathered my things and performed the I’m-Getting-Off-At-This-Stop Dance, the stranger rose from his seat to allow my exit and wished me a good day. I did the same—and I am alive to tell the tale.