I was on my way home from a temp job, performing data entry from 4pm to midnight -- I'd just quit, but didn't tell them, in hopes they'd keep paying me -- with my notebook out writing a list of daily fears. I'd just finished jotting down "getting AIDS" when a stranger boards the train, introduces himself as Michael, and continues the conversation without bothering to verify if I'd heard him. Normally I don't make a habit of talking to strangers, but he'd introduced himself and I was curious about his teeth -- he didn't have any.
Through our conversation, what I could make out, he fills me in with a series of facts about his life; he's a Gemini, divorced after 11 years and no longer looking for love, loved quoting Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do With It?" -- this I'm assuming based on the amount of times he quoted it, had a couple kids, two cars stolen from him, and always wound up getting hired to talk on the phone. That last part threw me. Talking on the phone? I could barely understand him and I was looking at his face. He was very charismatic, yes, but the only time I could imagine him being articulate was when he assured me how articulate he was. He even got promoted, a title and everything. I've never been promoted, me or my teeth.
Here were the other highlights. I present them in script form...
MICHAEL, THE TOOTHLESS GEMINI: You have any kids?
ME: No.
MTTG: That you know of.
ME: Pardon?
MTTG: You're 28, you've seen the world, right? You can't say "no" for sure. Best you can say is, "that you know of."
MTTG: Are you laughing cause of the way I talk?
ME: No.
MTTG: Then what's wrong with you.
MTTG: My friends say I should get on stage and make some money. I say, "I am on stage. Every time the sun comes up, I'm on stage."
(Train stops)
This is my stop.
ME: It's been a pleasure talking to you.
MTTG: And I"m not even gonna charge ya.
MTTG: I worked a series of temp jobs until one of them gave me a title and put me on the phones.
After my new favorite-person-in-the-world got off, Paul the Homeless Writer introduced himself and shook my hand. He was also missing teeth, but not as many, so I didn't like him as much. I was curious to read the story he wrote, The Great Picnic, in which everyone in the city is invited to a great picnic except one person; that's where he comes in, he informed me. He didn't have a spare copy and I didn't have the nerve to ask for his e-mail address out of fear he wouldn't have one.
He was nice, but I didn't want to forget everything that had happened on this train ride and wanted to jot down as much of it as I could, so I didn't pay him the attention he deserved. After a bit, he told me that he needed to come up with enough money to get a room and a shower for the night, assured me he was not asking me for money, then he clarified that the reason he wasn't asking for money was because it was illegal on the train, then mentioned needing a room and a shower for the night.
I gave him the contents of my wallet, all I had on my was two dollars; I wished I had more to give. Also, I'm glad I only had two dollars, I probably wouldn't have given him more than that, but now I get to say, "I gave him the contents of my wallet." It makes me sound much more caring than I am.
There are so many fascinating people out there living such fascinating loves.
Stu's Daily Fears:
3. Getting AIDS
2. Someone thinking I said the N-Word when I didn't.
1. Not being invited to the Great Picnic.
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