12-18/The Corner Bar

His watch hinted that it was 5:29, but he was unable to tell exactly. Only the 12, 3, 6, and 9's were visible and in between them, plain tick marks stood where the other increments of five would stand. So, the minute hand, nestled up next to the 6, gave him the impression he had 4 minutes left to make the 5:33.

Four minutes to get to track 19. Lots of bags. Lots of people. Get to the train.

Popcorn?

Ok.

Lots of bags, lots of people, and popcorn now accompanied him to track 19. Last call for the 5:33.

"How can that be?" he thought, and lifted his left hand towards his face dumping 33 cents of the dollar popcorn down his arm and into his Foot Locker bag. As the popcorn fell, piece by piece like rain onto the gray New York Giants Athletic Dept T-Shirt that he purchased, he was more worried about the kernels that hit the floor.

Should he pick it up, or leave it. Snickers from nearby. A balding man with a mustache in a red reindeer sweater with reading glasses on his nose looked on, hands behind his back. The man was fascinated by what happened, looking on like an old man would stand and watch a construction site. The man looked on with anticipation, glancing quickly between the floor and his face.

All of this happening within seconds, he decided to run for the train. Feeling bad for leaving the mess, he also felt like a bad-ass for leaving it, even though in the grand scheme it was such a trivial faux-pas.

He ran down the steps toward the track, his feet like a jackhammer, pit pat pit pat pit pat down the steps. Behind him, the ruffle of bags, and another 33 percent of his popcorn followed, gracing the steps of track 19 like flowers from a flower girl.

The bing bong of the train alerted to the imminent closing of the doors. He lept off of the fourth step from the bottom, tumbling down onto the main level of the track. Leaving the last third of that wonderful popcorn, he jumped into the train as the doors closed. As the doors shut, one bag remained outside of the train, almost planned like a bad movie scene. Damn Giants shirt.

"Oh come on," he muttered audibly, emphasizing the word 'on'. A short Chinese woman with oval glasses looked on. It was the Giants shirt and popcorn showered bag that was trapped, and the popcorn could be heard cracking and crumbling into the shirt. Enduring only a half second of asphyxiation, the door released the bag and reshut.

The woman stared at him without shame. Embarrassed and sweating a bit, he made his way through the car. All the forward facing seats were occupied, but he would rather stand than sit backwards. Realizing this in the middle of the car, he looked at his watch again (pretending like he had to be somewhere) and about-faced back to the doorway area standing room. As he turned, the bag with the Giants shirt hit a 20 something brunette girl on the phone, who loudly told the other party,

"Some big guy just hit me with a bag."

Sorry.

Realizing that the look-at-the-watch-turn-around-and-pretend-that-you-knew-where-you-were-going-but-just-changed-your-mind-and-turned-around-move was useless on a fucking train, he sped up his short journey back to the Chinese woman. The train sped up as well, knocking him off his balance and onto the door of the lavatory. Settling in to the corner of the wall and the door, he dropped the bags and just stood. The bathroom door opened, and a man stepped out, looking at the Chinese woman, who then looked at him in the corner. The man followed her glance to his face, when the man gave him a dirty look.

"It's all yours now, bro."

"I....." the man walked away and sat next to the 20s something brunette.

The Chinese woman stared at him, almost as if she was waiting for an answer to an unasked question, mouth slightly open.

As the train slowed to it's first stop, the girl appeared. He saw her briefly sitting backwards, during his parade through the car. But he only saw her like when a person is driving on the highway and notices a car with only one headlight driving the opposite way. Its there, I noticed it, there it goes.

Her hair was dark, but not black. It was up. Eyes were green, glasses were thin. Black coat buttoned to the top. Hands in pockets. Slightly heeled boots clicking toward him, eyes locked. The train jolted as it slowed, but she was unaffected. His lean against the door broke with the negative force of gravity, and slammed back with a dulled thud.

As the train slowed and stopped, she perfectly timed her walk to not have to wait for the door to open. Five feet away the doors opened, 3 feet away she took her left hand out, 2 feet away she handed him a business card, 1 foot away she put her hand back in her pocket and walked out.

His hand felt like plastic holding the card, until the cold air of the outside surrounded it, blowing through his fingers. He looked stunned, he felt stunned. As the doors shut, he put the card into his pocket, along with his hands and stared at the floor. A smile curved his mouth, and with an eyebrow slightly raised he slowly lifted his head.

As his head slowly rose it initiated a turn to the Chinese woman who's face remained stoic, but her eyes stemmed with excitement. She leaned a little more forward now, still waiting for the reply to the unasked question. His face met hers, and he winked. Her head jerked forward, with a slight dilating of her eyes. Just then the next stop came, and the woman walked out, hands clasped in front of her with a bag on her wrist. She was in no hurry at all.

Feeling vindication from his foolery of the past 20 minutes he popped his collar in anticipation of the arrival to his stop. Grabbing the bags, and slinging his Macy's handled paper bag over his shoulder, he walked out of the train with a swagger.

As he walked into the house, he dumped his bags on to the kitchen floor. Grabbing the Foot Locker bag from the bottom, he shook the contents out onto the floor. Thirty three percent of his uneaten popcorn, a spotty greased Giants shirt, and a receipt dropped out. The receipt floated down to the other contents, who waited on it to join them on the floor. He thought about eating some of the kernels.

Unfazed by the gray and yellow art that was creating a havoc of rubbish on the tiled kitchen floor, he reached for his phone.

"Dude, I cant come tonight. I have a date."
"What. How?"
"This beautiful girl on the train gave me her card."
"Whats her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where does she work?
"I don't know."
"What does the card say?"
"I don't know. I just put it in my pocket and haven't looked at it."
"Did you make plans to hang out on the train?"
"No."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"So how are you going out with her?"
"I'm going to call her now."
"Wait, you can't call her. You have to wait. Look at the card and tell me her name at least."

He had been flipping the business card in his pocket through his middle finger, forefinger, and thumb as they spoke. He pulled it out and looked. It was white. Holding the card between his forefinger and middle finger, he flicked his wrist flipping to the front of the card.

"I bet her name is Bertha. or Grace. Grace really isn't a bad name I guess. It would funny if it was Gertrude. I wonder how many chicks born after 1980 are named Gertrude. What does it say bro."

He stared silently at the scribbled handwritten word on the otherwise blank card.

LOSER

"Are you there?"
"I guess I am going out with you guys tonight."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Nothing, I cant find it."
"WHAT A DICK, OH MAN, YOU'RE A DICK DUDE!"
"Yup"

ck