Monday, January 21, 2013


I’m not a person who uses public transportation daily or even monthly. I’m the type that drives my car and burns gas and puts just a little bit of greenhouse gases in the air. The term “greenhouse gases” has always seemed like a weird way to put it to me. I understand the reason for it, trapping in heat, global warming, and another scientific term. The problem in my head with greenhouse gases is obviously the greenhouse part. 

When I think of greenhouses, I think roses and elementary school field trips. I think they should call them something that brings terrible things to mind. 9/11 gases! Or if that’s too soon, Pearl Harbor gases! Not the event, the movie.

Anyhow, I didn’t start writing about Pearl Harbor gases just to abolish the term “Greenhouse Gases”, in fact, I’m not exactly sure how I got on that subject in the first place. I’m writing about something much more important.

I’m currently riding Utah’s Frontrunner. It’s a commuter Train that runs north to south connecting the string of cities on either side of SLC. It’s not peak hours but there are still enough people to give a person plenty of chances to drop all the eaves possible. There’s also nearly every demographic of white people who would ever be on public transportation. Boy students, very Mormon girl students, an older guy who’s strangely balding and a punk looking at baby pictures of some girl, pictures of a guy named Tom, and like his favorite band, The Bouncing Souls.

This Punk guy is my kind of people. He has a black stocking cap with patches for Subhumans and the Distillers that used to be t-shirts sewed onto it with green thread. He’s pretty kick ass. He’s sharing music from his phone with his riding mate who I can’t see without being obvious. Okay, I was obvious. He’s a nerd punk for sure. I’m cool with that.

This is what I like about taking advantage of public transportation alone, the people watching. When you’re with a person and talking to them, you become part of the show and I feel like it’s a little obnoxious at times. I try to talk softly and it’s stupid.

There’s a guy who walks up and down the aisle to make sure we’re all safe. The thing is, he doesn’t look like he could save anyone. I want Patrick Swayze on Roadhouse. Oh no crazy guy with a gun and a knife. In comes Swayze to rip his throat out! With bare hands! 

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