The other day I was on the train and bore a painful commute.
Three teenage boys sat across the aisle from me and for at least 15 minutes, I had to put up with their terrible nonsense. One of the guys struck a conversation with the girl sitting across from me, a long-haired teenage brunette who immediately got busy refreshing her make-up as soon as she sat down.
“What’s your name,” he asked.
The girl didn’t play hard-to-get and quickly responded, “Ally.”
“That’s a nice name. Is that spelled with an ‘ie’?” He wanted to know.
“Ally with a ‘y’.” She said. Then complete, uncomfortable silence.
The girl was obviously waiting for more, perhaps the inevitable pick-up line on a Saturday afternoon, but the boy got busy with his cell phone. After he finished his cellular chat, he and his two buddies engaged in boisterous chatters about basically nothing.
I think the young ones aren’t comfortable with pregnant pauses. Noise and loud talk are their absolute ambience that spells comfort zone. They just have to make incessant chatters or disturbing thumping actions with their feet to feel okay.
The girl looked disappointed and got busy toying with her wrist ornament. I was engrossed in my puzzle, but couldn’t help but notice the mad, distractive hand motions she made across the seat.
Across the aisle, the boys couldn’t be contained with their restless body movements and petty conversations only they could fathom. They spoke in English, but seemed to converse in an alien language all their own. What was more disturbing was that they talked at the top of their lungs even though they were sitting face-to-face of each other.
Maybe I'm just weird, but I would prefer a quiet commute any time of the day.
