Trains

I am sometimes the most socially awkward person to be around. Its funny, I tend no to care for most people in general – mainly selfish characteristics piss me off. But I tend to work in jobs that are customer service oriented or marketing focused. I guess I’m a professional because coworkers believe I’m a fun guy. News flash I secretly hate most of you. I’m a guy who loves his time and will only share it with a few and if your not included then you should get the hint. Usually, when I don’t like someone or something it is known, however I declare my dislike in a tasteful and tactful manner. As mentioned, I work in marketing; it is my current job with a big company. I would ride a train in to work to save on gas money and I kept quiet during my daily commute to work – you know ear buds in and listening to Atreyu. I find a lot of the commuters to be complete assholes. Seriously, they would take a seat and place their briefcase beside them knowing that the training fills quickly. The train has quiet rules and every passenger wants to be an enforcer – I can whisper on the phone but you can type like a retarded chimp on your MacBook? – Man, eat a dick. They aren’t all bad though. Some people try to make small talk with me and that’s cool but only small talk, I don’t want to be your train buddy. One chick wanted to me swim in her aquarium her among other things but she had two things going against her – I have a great chick and she looked like a clownfish. Yes like Nemo. The chick was cool and when I was up to it we’d talk on the train before work. But I guess human nature dictates that you eventually make some acquaintances.
There was a dude on the train that was a bit younger than I. He is pretty eccentric dude but he spoke to me everyday and attempted small talk. I guess he wanted to make friends and I was the only person in his age range that rode that train. We talked about movies, the Internet and computers. Don would ask me about chicks, because he was horrible with them. I was like a fat ass Casanova or something. I would call Don a nerd but I would call him something that began with an “n” and ended with an “erd”. We’d talk shit about one another – you know good natured ribbing. He was a good dude someone I could be friends with outside of the train. But their was one problem. Dude didn’t understand boundaries. Don’t you hate people can’t stop touching you, you know – a pat on the should, fist bumps and shit like that. I mean, really dude. I ignored it, thinking maybe he’s one of those “pat on the shoulder” kinda guys and that’s how his circle of friends operates. The dude, Don, was on the same train in the afternoon as I. Don was like the little annoying brother than every one has. Eventually, I determined that Don had some issues – meds. Don had to take “happy pills” due to depression and he could control impulses some times. He started replacing those pats on the shoulder and fist bumps with punches. I’m a big buy – 6’3 and over 300, so those punches were miniscule but there was intent behind them. Don was a smaller dude and I didn’t want to play the bully role, I just wanted to have a civil conversation about porn in a crowded car – what’s wrong with that. I allowed the punches and shit to go on for a little while. I mean the conversations about games, girls and guns were cool but keep your fucking hands off of me. Dude didn’t stop didn’t stop its like it was part of the conversation – you know, par for the course. So for every time he hit me in the arm, I punched his in the chest or stomach. I mean short range; you’d be gasping for air punches. Don would fall to his knees and then pop back up like nothing happened. That shit was weird. I began to think Don was a serial killer and I asked him. I never found out because I was relocated to another site never to see Don again. And the moral of this story is never talk to people on the train.