2021-01-15
cosmic track & field
Today, I had just stepped onto a BART train, on my way home from work. I stood near the doorway (I never sit; those seats are disgusting, like using a bathroom at someone's house and finding they have those disgusting foam toilet seats). The door always remains open for a long minute or so. A woman stood on the platform. Some sort of small card fell from her pocket. I moved closer to the doorway and called out to her ("Excuse me, excuse me"), waving my arms, trying to get her attention because I thought it might be something important like an I.D. or a credit card or an office keycard. The door was about to close. The woman did not notice me and started walking toward the escalators. I exited the train. The door closed behind me. I picked up the card the woman had dropped. I now realized it was just some business card. My heart sank. The train had not moved. I imagined that every person on the train now had their eyes on me (though it is more likely that few had noticed or cared), and I felt compelled to follow through, you know? Like I didn't want the people on the train to think I was being opportunistic and picking up something potentially valuable the woman had dropped and keeping it for myself. So I made a point to follow her to the escalator and offer her the card she had dropped. She looked confused at first, then saw that it was a business card and took it while rolling her eyes. And she didn't just roll her eyes; she used her neck and head to give her rolling eyes that extra "oomph", like she was a competitor in a track-and-field event and trying to get her eyes over a high bar.
The train pulled away. But there was another one right behind it. So, I didn't really lose any time. I just felt foolish.
I am an absurd human. I am grateful that my existence is very brief and that my absurdity is unlikely to survive me. Because, when it comes to absurdity, the competition down here is thick.