A (not so short) short story

The train ride from New York to Waterbury, CT is not glamorous. Metronorth is uncomfortable, smells of urine and I don't know who designed the inside--but they should be shot. Dark navy blue, maroon and puke brown? really?! That's the color scheme you come up with?

Going into New Haven isn't too bad. It's pretty much a straight-1 hour 45 min-shot. Sure it's crowded, sure, you don't necessarily know if the guy next to you farted, but whatevs. Put on your ipod, hold your breath and deal with it. Taking the train to Waterbury, however, is a bit more complicated. You have to transfer at Bridgeport and get on another, much smaller, smellier train, where the people are louder, bigger and trashier. I don't say that to be mean--its the truth. There is always at least one grizzly drunk dude wearing a stained tank top and carrying whats left of his six pack, roaming up and down the aisle. It's pleasant.

As if this miserable ride weren't normally enough--this past weekend I got an extra little treat. We were rolling along from Naugatuck, onward towards Waterbury, our final destination....FINALLY. The train comes to a stop and we sit and wait. Living in NYC, this doesn't phase me--I ride the subway every day, and this is nothing out of the norm.

Last Friday, as you may recall if you live in the northeast, was filled with torrential downpours. As we were sitting there, I looked out the window and noticed the muddy brown river the train tracks run next to was angry and woeful and had risen well above its normal level. Milk jugs and other accoutrements of trashiness were being violently tossed downstream. As we continued waiting, my concern was growing.

After about 10 minutes of waiting, the conductor comes on the speaker announcing that the river had washed out the tracks ahead and we couldn't get by.

WHAT? Are you kidding me? What is this, the fucking Oregon Trail? FORGE THAT SHIT!
ugh. So we had to go back to Naugatuck. Fine, whatever, just get me off this train.
We reverse direction and start retracing our path. As I was on the phone with my mom telling her she had to drive to pick me up in Naugatuck, the train stops again.

Fuck me. Yep, you guessed it, the track was now washed out on the other side as well. We were stuck. There I was, trapped inside the vomitous train car with all these other people...Who, at this point, were all talking on their nextel walkie talkies as their children were swinging from the luggage rack. Good times indeed.

While I was slouching in my seat, listening to my ipod, this tall, brutish man walks into the train compartment. He was about 6'3", with unwashed blonde hair down to his shoulders. He was a cross between fabio and dirt.
"Hey everyone, my name is Mike and I'm a fireman from the next town over."
He would be ruggedly attractive, if it weren't for his aura of scuz .
"I know, I don't look like a fireman with my long hair..."
The people on the train laugh as he smiles and pats a small boy on the head in an overly cliched 'everything is gonna be ok, I'm here to help, I'm a fireman' sort of way.
"So the conductors are checking things out right now, but stay calm, everything will be ok. I was just wondering if there were any doctors on board, or anyone with medical experience. I'm just trying to get an idea incase anyone is hurt, or needs anything"
No one responds.
"Ok, if anyone has any problems like asthma or diabetes, let me know" And then as he left everyone in the train gave him a collective "Thank you!" sounding all grateful and appreciative.

I did not say thank you. This guy had been waiting his whole life, watching Steven segal and Harrison ford movies, training for something like this. I saw right through his "I'm a fucking hero" act. Yeah, the thought is nice...I guess....But its a fucking train that's not moving. There was a road and civilization like 1/4 mile away. It wasn't even raining anymore. There was absolutely no danger in this situation what so ever and he's trouncing through this train like he's on a mission to stop some Iraqi insurgent from driving it into the white house.

A few more minutes go by and I see that people are starting to get off the train and walk. Great. Walking. My favorite thing to do. I file in with everyone else as they head to the door. Of course our friend is there, eagerly helping people with the 3 foot jump off the train. I made it a point to jump and land before he could touch me.

I started the journey towards Naugatuck and easily crossed the 3 inch trickling river which would have caused the train to derail. I put in my ipod and tried thinking of positive side of all this:
1. I've never walked along a train track before. I felt like a refugee--not that being a refugee is a positive thing, but in this non-threatening situation, I was able to get the cool image of being a refugee without any of the hardship, despair and pain.

that was really it. I couldn't think of any other positive aspect.

As I'm walking a long the track (which became a little challenge in itself.) I heard someone running up behind me. Before I could even turn around to see who it was, Mike, our hero, trots up next to me.

"hey, just make sure if it gets dark, you stay with the group."

I gave him a look that read "you don't impress me, douche bag. Keep running." and continued on my way. He kept running ahead of me, awkwardly trying not to trip or sprain his ankle, spreading this crucial message to the rest of the group.

The whole journey along the tracks didn't take more than 25 minutes. Not a big deal. While on the last stretch towards Naugatuck I came upon Mike one last time. He was standing in front of a bridge with his shirt off talking on his cell phone. You couldn't fucking wait to brag to your lame friends about how you "saved the day"? The job wasn't even finished yet and you're lounging out, shirtless, by the train tracks! If you're gonna play hero, fucking commit, man!

I finally got to Naugatuck where my mommy was waiting for me (I can say mommy and get away with it cuz I just proved my manliness by surviving this near-death train crash). And that was it. Nothing really too eventful--just a pain in the ass. I wonder if metro north will give Mike an honorary medal or something. He deserves one.