You Are Creeping Me Out.

Daniel playing guitar

Getting on the train last night was a bit of an issue due to the fact that I had two suitcases (one large, one small) that both weighed almost as much as I did. I hefted the large one on and then attempted to stow the small one on the top shelf of the luggage compartment because it was the only available space. A rather large girl behind me offered to help, so I instructed her to just grab the back end and we managed to get it stowed away. The conductor/train person behind us said something to the effect of “You two can just sit together in those two back seats there,” gesturing to the lower-level seating intended for the elderly or handicapped. I thought it was a little unusual, but hey, whatever.

The girl wedged by me and made her way into the window seat as I struggled to find somewhere to put my larger bag. The other issue with that particular suitcase (besides the fact that it weighed a ton) was that if you left it unattended for even a moment, it’d fall over forward, likely taking out somebody’s knees from behind. Trust me, it’s happened to me. I finally just set it next to the other suitcases that were placed on the ground and hoped it wouldn’t be too in the way.

I made my way back to the seat next to the large girl, and noticed that she really hadn’t made any effort to give me room to sit down. Fine, I thought, I’ll just take off my coat here, grab my blanket, put my bag on the ground and then sit down. The Train Person came by to get our tickets (I was still standing awkwardly next to the seats) and put the tags up that indicate what city we’re traveling to in case they have to wake us up during the night.

Despite the fact that this girl still hadn’t given me any room to sit down, I sat anyway and tried to appear comfortable. Then began the staring. Any time the train rocked or lurched or jolted like it is prone to do, she’d turn and just stare at me, like she was gauging my response to see if she should panic or if all was well. If this wasn’t unnerving enough, sometimes she’d just stare out the opposite window so it just looked like she was staring at me for minutes on end. Creepy Girl then began to play music on her Discman.

The volume on the CD player was up so loud that I could hear it, and it was that sappy, “Ohhhh, OhhHHHHHOOOHHHHhhh baby giiiiiirrrllllll, OH BAAAAAABY GIRRRRRRL” kind of music, and she began WHISPERING ALONG WITH IT. The horrors.

To add insult to injury, I will again point out that this girl was taking up not only her seat, but at least a third of mine as well, including the small barricade thing between the seats. She kept stepping on my foot, which, I might add, was nowhere near her seat. And she had her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, but the ponytail was braided, and then end of the braid was stuck back into the scrunchie that created the ponytail. She also never removed her mini-backpack. Yes, I said it. MINI-BACKPACK. I do not intend to be rude, but when one is the size that this girl was, one should not use undersized storage accessories. It only makes one look disproportionately larger.

She finally asked me where I was going, and when I replied Portland, she made a “harumph”-ing kind of noise, and then went back to listening to her CD player. I took this to mean, “Wow, that is pretty crap, we will be stuffed in these seats together for the remainder of this trip.”

You cannot imagine my glee when she squeezed by me as we neared Spokane (a mere hour and a half later) and GOT OFF THE TRAIN. Oh man. From Spokane to Portland, I had two glorious seats to myself to lay down upon with my new blanket that Heidi made me for Christmas. I was warm, comfortable, and I wasn’t being sat on.

I’m still a little weirded out by Creepy Girl. I honestly thought she was going to steal my wallet or something, the way she kept looking at me. It was like she had to keep checking if I was awake or not. I don’t know what her problem was.

So. I am back, safe and sound. I am going to back up my database either tonight or tomorrow, and then embark on the WP 2.0 experiment.

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