My Time In The Quiet Car

This past weekend, I traveled five hours South from Providence to Philadelphia by train. Upon boarding, I chose a seat in the Quiet Car. I didn't intend on sitting in the Quiet Car but, once settled, I was thankful that I accidentally unloaded my gear into the seat I did. The motley crew that filed through the self-proclaimed library atmosphere to find a seat in the "Self-Unaware" or "Buffoon" cars would've gotten real old, real fast at close proximity.
The Quiet Car was nice. I was surrounded by a well-dressed businessman closing out his Thursday by preparing an Excel spreadsheet, an aspiring law student studying abnormal laws, and important women in pant suits and skirts with pantyhose. One of these things is not like the other...and that thing is me.
I sat in my seat silently, putzing through my Facebook news feed, texting a few of my favorites, listening to my Funky, Funky Christmas Pandora station (with my ear buds, obviously), and wondering why the seats on the opposite side of the aisle were labeled A and C. What happened to poor seat B?
There were a few knuckleheads around me that either didn't know they were in the Quiet Car or their definition of quiet is much different from Amtrak's. A few people went against the no cell phone rule, causing the staff to make reminder announcements...which goes against the whole concept of quiet, if you ask me. No one asked though.
As the ride continued, people obeyed the man wearing the conductor hat using the microphone...even the man that got up to get a snack from the dining cart three separate times for the loudest-to-open and loudest-to-consume items available. Phones seemed to be switched to silent and their owners began taking the vibrating phones into another car before they answered. That is until we got to New York's Penn Station. Don't you know that those crazy New Yorkers will do as they please? I avoided those pesky Yankee fans by pretending I was asleep in the aisle seat when they boarded so they couldn't easily sit next to me. That'll show them.
The ride through New Joy-sey went smoothly and quickly, and I was unboarding in the 30th Street Station in Philly before long.
A few days later, my ride home to Providence was not in a Quiet Car but it wasn't so bad. I enjoyed a chicken Caesar salad, flat bread, and a Coke that I purchased in the Philly station; finished the last few pages of David Robert's Wanderlush; and overheard a man paying his bills through an automated bill pay service...but he really wanted to talk to a representative...at 10:30 pm...on a Saturday evening. "Representative. Representative. I'd like to speak with a representative, please. Please let me speak to a representative."
There were definite pros and cons of the Quiet Car. Pro: you can nap, read, work, meditate, or simply watch the world go by in peace. Con: if you sneeze or clear your throat, they toss you from the moving train. I guess it all depends on your mood.

Fashion Nightmare

I know what you're thinking - You? A fashion nightmare? No way! I look to you for all my fashion tips.

Well, brace yourselves - this blog will burst that bubble in a hurry.

Rather than continuously updating my wardrobe, I tend to buy clothes in bulk, wear them until they fall apart, and then replace them all at the same time. The same goes for shoes.

Months ago, maybe years ago at this point, I purchased new pants for work. Because it seems that I'm on a five-outfit rotation, as expected, they're all falling apart at the same time. So much so that I've been "hemming" them with packing tape for weeks. Ridiculous, I know. God forbid I learn how to sew.

I tell you that secret of mine now because this morning I dropped them off at an alterations place to have them mended. Problem solved.

It feels so good to get that off my chest finally...so liberating!

Okay. Okay. I'll give you another fashion confession of mine. When wearing shoes with no socks, I put a dryer sheet underneath each foot. Trust me, I know that's weird but I'd much prefer to give off a scent of "Summit Fresh"ness with every step instead of swamp foot.

Okay. I've said too much. Gotta go.

The Wheels On The Bus

During today's commute into work, my RIPTA bus was traveling slowly past a local yellow school bus. What I saw through the windows made me sad.
The school bus wasn't full; in fact, the seats that were being used held just one child apiece. A few kids on the close side of the bus were listening to their iPods or were playing with their phones. Others were simply watching cars go by. One young boy was sleeping with his face pressed up against the cold glass window.
That's all fine and good but I was sad to see that there were no conversations between any of the students. I bet if I was a fly on the wall of that bus I'd be the only one making sound, fluttering my paper-thin wings.
I remember my elementary school bus as a social gathering. We'd have singalongs and talk about recent Mickey Mouse Club, Kids Incorporated or Full House episodes. As I got older, the conversations certainly changed but they still occurred.
Do kids these days only communicate with help from their phones or do real face-to-face conversations happen in schools these days?

Holding Hands

I am not a mother, nor a caretaker. I'm not a nanny or even a babysitter. I am, however, a self-proclaimed normal and safety-minded person.

That being said, I cannot believe some of the behavior that I witness on a daily basis in public places - restaurants, stores, banks, etc. - by parents and the kids under their mindful watch. I am not talking about the temper tantrums displayed by young children, although they are sometimes unbelievable, and I truly feel for those parents who are trying to calm and discipline their unruly children in public, in addition to in the privacy of their own home.

I'm talking about the utter disregard that some parents have for the general public, letting their kids run around a store touching everything in sight and breaking things, screaming so loud that glass window panes start to splinter, and haphazardly weaving through innocent bystanders trying to get their weekly groceries. My thoughts are that if you take children out to a public place, you should be mindful of their behavior and their whereabouts. If they can't behave appropriately in public, they probably shouldn't go out in public. Also, if you can't keep a mindful eye on them while out in public, find other arrangements for them. Parents, I beg of you to at least guard their safety while out.

I was in the parking lot of a craft store earlier this month, sitting in my car listening to the end of a song before turning the key and walking inside. As I sat there, I watched a woman in her mid-to-late thirties escort three young children out of the store. If I had to guess, I'd say that the children were aged 2 (boy) and 5 and 6 (girls).
No one was holding the kids' hands, and no one stopped all three kids from walking out into the parking lot in front of an oncoming car. I literally gasped aloud as the white car came within just feet of them all. No one reprimanded the kids for running out into the street, nor did they then grasp hands to safely get to the car. Nothing happened. Nothing.
One of the young girls dropped a empty plastic bottle in the parking lot in front of the car as she was crossing. Thankfully the driver of the white car is the only other sane person in the vicinity and she sat stationary until this nonsensical episode was over.
The responsible adult turned away from the other two youngsters and told the girl to pick up her bottle. Meanwhile, the 2-year-old ran to the family car several spots away. The guardian didn't seem to notice or care. Of course, I cringed. Not only could this young boy have been hurt by a car pulling in or out of a parking spot without seeing him, but some crazy person could have taken him as his mother was at least 40 feet away.
Luckily, they reached their car in one piece but that plastic bottle was never picked up. I just hope that the rest of the Warwick area assisted them to get safely home that day.
I don't remember going out to dinner or to the mall with my parents at an early age. I'm sure for this very reason. I was a brown haired, pig-tailed wearing, freckled maniac with the early stages of a Boston accent. I was a child. I couldn't be trusted.

Splatter Paint

Remember that day I realized it had been months - m-o-n-t-h-s - since I had blogged?

Also, remember the day last week that the bus pulled up to the Park & Ride in the morning and ran over a can of spray paint, shooting the orange contents all over the bus commuters on their way to work in the morning? Yeh, that was awesome.

Remember those paint/pottery places from the late 80s? It's like I brought my foot there.

I'm so glad these shoes only cost me, like, $10.

On the bright side, I'm not the blonde that got a new look to her Michael Kors purse. Yikes.

Even I'm Embarrassed

As I was driving home this afternoon, listening to 92.3 PRO FM with the windows down as all good Rhode Islanders do from time to time, I came upon a red light. I looked in my rear view mirror to see if I should stop short and get into a minor fender bender with a good looking guy with no wedding ring on. I didn't find a strapping, young, single man. Instead, I found what looked to be a mother and two young girls. I'm guessing the girl in the front seat - the focal point of this blog - was in the vicinity of ten years old.

After a commercial break, a new song came on, and, as it started playing in my car, I took another glance at the young girl in the blue car behind me. She was singing...or at least lip-syncing...along to the same song playing in my car. Ha. This could be fun...or totally awkward. Yep - totally awkward.

The song playing was "Wiggle" by Jason DeRulo featuring Snoop Dogg.

Let me reiterate that this young girl was approximately ten...no older than 12 years old. Also, quick reminder, she was a passenger in a car that appeared to be driven by her mother. 

If I were in the car today, at the age of 33, with my mother and that song were to come on the radio, I'd either turn it down or change the station. I can't imagine that my mother would appreciate me, at the age of ten, singing along to...

Hot damn it

Your booty like two planets

Go head, and go ham sammich

Whoa, I can't stand it

'Cause you know what to do with that big fat butt

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle

In an instant, I was brought back to 1992 to a time where I would listen to Silk's "Freak Me" and Inner Circle's "Sweat" in my bedroom at the lowest volume setting possible as to not get caught and grounded until I was married off...or forced to live my life as a spinster. (Maybe she did hear me!)

Is it possible that I'm the only person who gets totally embarrassed when being in the same zip code as my parents when a risque song, or scene in a show or movie comes on?

One thing I know for sure is that the young girl in the car this afternoon does not share this same modesty. She could've been a back-up singer for Mr. DeRulo.

So much has changed since 1992 in terms of what is deemed appropriate...or, at least, acceptable...that I fear what society will be like in 20 more years.

Need To Get Back To ACK

As I rolled to a stop at a red light the other day, I heard a *beep* coming from the car next to me. I looked to my right and the male driver made the manual roll-down-your-window motion...which I instantly recognized because I grew up in the '80s. I did so, assuming they needed directions. What came next caught me a bit off guard.
The couple did not ask me where the closest Dunkin' Donuts was located...or how to get onto 95 South. They asked me what the bumper sticker on my back bumper meant.
"Excuse me. What does A-C-K stand for?"
With a surprised look on my face, I'm sure, I explained that it was the airport code for Nantucket. Their response made me smile as I pulled away and drove home.
"Ooohhhh...okay. I knew you wouldn't have a bumper sticker that was just for that weird sound - AAACCCKKK...AAACCCKKK!"
I smiled as I rolled up my window, and, once the light returned to green, I pulled away and drove home smiling the whole way.
The random Route 2 interaction got me thinking about Nantucket. For me, it's always provided a much needed change in pace. Although it's not far from Boston, Providence or New York City, once I step onto that ferry down the Cape, my mood completely changes. I'm officially on vacation and once I step off the boat onto the island, life is just...sweeter.
The "downtown" area is chock full of cobblestone streets, quaint shops, bicycles with baskets and bells, seafood restaurants and bars, and seer sucker, Nantucket reds and boat shoes. It's everything I thought it would be.
Thank you, couple from Connecticut with the kayak on top of your car, for reminding me of great memories with friends and with paperback books, the pain of awkward burn lines, the smell of the salty air, and the feel of sand between my toes and the gentle evening breeze after a magical day on the island.