In case you make a misssteak

I was on the way home tonight. I was taking the ever-punctual 2 train. I notice as I stepped off the platform of the 1 train that the last 2 train whizzed away with blatant disregard for transporting anyone else. I LOVE that feeling. The one where you SEE the train you need to catch about 4 yards away. The only thing that is stopping you is a pair of glass doors and that conductor that can’t wait THREE more seconds before dashing your hopes of EVER getting home.

The next train would be 20 more minutes. I had nothing to do but wait. A middle-aged woman was standing in front of me equally perturbed. I can see why. Okay, she told me. …several times. She had to go home and study. She was carrying several armloads of books and notepads.

“Big test tomorrow?” I asked.

“No, just lots of work. Lots and lots of work. I had two classes today, two tomorrow three the next day and two on Friday,” She said.

She was very anxious to talk about her work, and her hernia. So, I let her. I thought, it will pass the time.

Little did I know. ….

45 minutes later this woman had officially talked her way through a 20-minute period on the platform and 7 stops on the two train.

Jesus, I thought.

She might keep talking to Kentucky if you let her. But I shouldn’t be silly.

The 2 train doesn’t go to Kentucky.

I should give her credit though. She was excited. She was in school. She was doing something she was proud of. She was accomplishing something. Something I had done a year ago. Something I used to feel wasn’t that big of a deal, but now feel differently about. Graduating IS a big deal. Getting a degree IS a big deal. Education IS important. And here I was with a woman that had spent 45 minutes telling me EVERY detail about EVERY class and EVERY assignment. Do not kid yourself. She got out her syllabus. She got out her books. She showed me her notes. She showed me her schedule.

Then I realized, why she was gushing. This was her first day. Her first day of college. And she just couldn’t stand it. She wanted to tell someone. She wanted to tell someone every detail. And that lucky someone was me.

I let her. Sure, I had plenty to read on the way home. My eyes were tired I could have slept. I had my cell phone. I could have listened to music, but instead I listened to her, an entire 2-train ride. So much so, if she missed class tomorrow I could have filled in for her.

I looked over her Spanish work. Told her the difference between Spanish 101 and 102. She showed me her sociology book and as soon as I saw the shrink wrap, I said “take it back.”

“Take it back,” I said. “You have got to buy your books used. How much did you pay for that?”

She took me seriously and said she would return it tomorrow. We went over her work schedule program and just about everything else. Before long I was nearing my stop. I could tell she wanted to ask me one last question.

“Do you think I should use a pencil?” She asked.

“A what?” I asked.

“A pencil, do you think I should use a pencil for my homework? I don’t have any.” she said.

The glass doors were about to open right at my stop. Except this time, I wasn’t hurrying to get off. I was fumbling through my black purse. I knew I had thrown a few in my bag at work once. I’m not sure why, I never use them. I’m a journalist I use pens. I just had them in there waiting to be taken out.

Finally, I laid a hand on one.

I handed it to her as I stepped out the glass doors.

“Yes, use a pencil. Incase you make any mistakes,” I said.

I heard a muffled thank you as the train whizzed away.