The Marta Chronicles

testing

posted by Darni @ 12/29/2001 05:44:00 PM

I had an interview on Thursday. Took Marta, of course. I'm not saying that Marta brings out the ugly in people but . . . Let's see. The bus driver missed my stop while staring at my breasts through his mirror. I had to rang the bell three times before he hit the brakes, almost sending me crashing through the front window. I don't think he saw me looking at him through the mirror or maybe he did and didn't care. I knew he was oggling them because when I boarded, his eyes went there immediately before he even said hello with a big, boyish smile.

Then . . .

After waiting almost an hour, the person who was to interview me, never showed. He was stuck in a meeting and thought "someone" had called me to reschedule for a later time. I left. Back on Marta - train station - a man whispers in my ear - "Could I go fishing in your hole?" Now, I didn't hear him the first time. Or maybe the dark side in me heard but wanted to hear again. Regardless, I said: "Pardon me?" And his stupid ass repeated the question. I was repulsed, I can read between the lines though there wasn't any room left with that kind of question. My face must have conveyed my answer. I was confused, angry and embarassed - hoped no one else had heard. He snicked then backed away.

This isn't the first time I've encountered such bold lewdness, which is one of the reasons I hate Five Points. On my way to an interview, another date and time, I was riding up the escalator and felt someone bump me from behind. I turned and spied a man bending down tying his shoe laces (to me, at first glance, that's what it looked like). I move up three steps to give him more room. We were the only two on the escalator at the time but I didn't wonder why he was so close until he moved up again, closing the gap between us. I felt him bump me again, twice before I turned to confront him and that's when I saw his head THIS CLOSE to my ass. I quickly trotted up the remaining steps to the top and stood there, shocked. I was SHOCKED AS HELL. He grinned, tipped his raggedy assed hat and said : "You smell so good." I looked around for an office (none to be found - I wasn't surprised) then mouthed "You son of a bitch!" I don't think the words came out of my mouth, I just remember mouthing them and breathing hard, hands clenched into fists.

A few years ago, while waiting for the #24 on Decatur street, a man in a black Cutlass accosted me. He parked his car in front of me, leaned towards the passenger's side, window rolled down and asked: "Hey, do you wanna ride?" I smiled and said: "No thank you." But he didn't drive away, just sat there for a second then asked -> "Well, do you wanna ride this?" Obviously I was having a "tucker the sucker" moment because I peered just a little too long. Either I couldn't believe my eyes or I really did think he was pointing a gun at me. And I did, in my mind I thought he's forcing me into this car by gun point THEN I realized that it wasn't a gun but his other fucking weapon. He howled with laughed because I started to cry. I could feel the hot tears in my eyes as he was driving away. But I wrote down his plate number and the bus pulled up seconds after he drove away. I was home within twenty five minutes, calling the police with a description of the man, the car and the plate number but that's a long story which resulted in them doing nothing. In fact, four days passed before an investigator called me back (by then my employers were involved, beefing up security and calling the police as well). After four days, one weekend included in those days, the officer had the fucking nerve to ask "What took you so long to call us?" That's Dekalb County for ya.

posted by Darni @ 7/28/2001 08:59:00 AM

???

posted by Darni @ 6/12/2001 02:16:00 AM

I haven't been on MARTA since running into that guy. Its a bit too much of a coincidence to run into someone, on the train, who reads your online journal. But he emailed me (a while ago) apologizing for being so forward.

To get around, I take a taxi or my sister takes me to and fro . . . I should get over my fear but I can't. I know why. I know what has caused my fear of driving but . . .

posted by Darni @ 5/29/2001 09:57:00 AM

- On MARTA, why do you stare? It is impolite.
- On MARTA, why do you stretch out on the seat like it is the couch in your home? The moto goes: "relax and enjoy the ride" not stretch out and sleep.
- Before boarding MARTA, always bathe and/or shower (bathe at night, shower in the morn, it won't kill you) - its getting steamy outside. In addition to the pollen index being over board, we don't need the additional "aromas" interfering with the ozone and with breathing space.

GEEZ!!!!!

I met a man on the train who "knew" me. We were talking, casually. I don't recall how it all began. But somewhere in between he extended his hand and introduced himself. I did the same and his eyes widened.

/conversation picks up here/

"DARNI!!!??? Do you have a journal online called She's Come Undone?"
"Yes," I replied almost cautiously.
"I KNOW YOU!!!!" He actually pointed his finger at me. "I read your journal, at work, almost everyday. Damn, it's a small world," he said.
"I guess the Internet has played a part."
"It sure has," he said looking more closely at my face.
I turned towards the window. Like I said, before that, we were conversing casually about something I don't recall, now I wanted him to go away. I could sense the sudden change.

"All that stuff you write about real?"
I almost laughed.
"What stuff?"
"You wrote something about a pussy not being weak."

I could have died. Of all the things I've divulged on that blog, and he pulls out something I wrote months and months and months ago.

"What do you think?"
"Well I don't know. I'm open to suggestions."
"Suggestions? That was a rant. I was just blowing off steam."
"It wasn't true?"
"Yes, my opinions are my truths."
"I'm just curious to know how strong it is?"
"How strong what is?"
"Don't get mad. You wrote it."
"You must have misunderstood what you read."
"You said a pussy could be so strong that it could squeeze a man's penis off."
"I didn't say that." I almost laughed. Almost. At his stupidity. A suit a tie does not always dress a genius. Remember, Bozo the Clown attended college too.

"I thought you were telling the truth."
"Re-read it."
"I'll re-read it if you give me your phone number so I can call you after I read it. D.A.R.N.I." He put so much emphasis on my name that I gritted my teeth. It was like he was taunting me, like we were on the playground at school.

"I'm not giving you my number?"
"How are you going to know if I re-read it?"
"You can email me."
"Why? I live in the same city as you."
"Excuse me, my stop is coming up." I lied. I was getting off just to get away from him.
"Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. That story just remained with me longer than it should have."
"I'm glad it had an impact on your life."

/conversation ends here/

For the record, once again - all that I write is true. I may exaggerate, embellish as we all do from time to time but for the most part it is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me . . . MARTA.

posted by Darni @ 5/01/2001 06:54:00 PM

Just trying on some new "clothes" . . .

posted by Darni @ 4/01/2001 01:49:00 PM

The Devil is not as mean as some people. I hate hearing that the Devil has so much power. He/She/It has as much power as we give it. And it seems that we are more devilish than the devil himself.

This morning, a pregnant woman boarded the train. She squeezed her way on board, probably hoping someone would give up a seat. She could have waited for the next train, MAYBE it would have been less full. But that would have been a chance she'd have to take, plus the weather has changed. Its cold again, with winds helping the air be a bit more colder.

The gentleman, I will call him The Standing Man, holding on to the pole next to me looked around, then spied a man closest to us sitting.

"Excuse me sir, would you mind letting this lady have your seat?"

The man grunted and rolled his eyes. Then he said, a few seconds later: "Yes I do mind," his lips curled up in a frown resembling the wicked smile/frown of the Joker from Batman and Robin. "I paid to ride, just like everybody else. Ain't gotta give up my seat just cause she a woman."

"Okay. Okay, brotha. No problem," The Standing Man tried to shush him with words. He smile at me and shook his head, I shook mine too - while frowning at the man sitting, who continued to talk.

"Women want equal rights, well they got it. Equal rights mean they stand when the train is full. That's what it mean, that's what it mean to me."

Other people laughed or mumbled disapprovingly, some shook their heads but none sitting, male or female, budged . . . expect an elderly lady. She had bags at her feet and she stumbled forward as she tried to stand.

"Come on baby, take this seat."

"Naw, naw, I'm fine," she protested. "I'll be alright."

"I know you will but I've been pregnant before and it ain't the most comfortable feeling." She giggled. "Now sit down," she said a bit more firmly. And the young pregnant lady took the seat.

The elderly lady smiled up at the Standing Man who seemed almost to be too tall for the train's ceiling. She thanked him for looking out for the young lady.

"Well, that's what a man is supposed to do."

"That's right," she agreed. "My Momma and Daddy worked hard all their lives. My Momma's hands were as hard as my Daddy's but at the end of a work day, he treated her like a lady, like a queen. I never heard my Daddy raise his voice to my Momma nor his hands and this was a strong man . . . very strong, physically - ya know. Men's are strong in their upper arms and women are strongest in the hips and thigh area. And there's a reason for that - men till the fields and women birth the children." She went on cheerfully as if glad to have an audience. It seemed like everyone was listening to her speak. English broken and very southern, but that didn't stop the Standing Man, who sounded as though he'd just stepped off a plain from New York, from conversing with her. They talked like old dear friends, like grandson to grandmother, like teacher to student. It was beautiful. Her teaching us all a lesson on common courtesy and respect, despite one's age or gender . . . birth privilege . . . or level of education.

I wonder if those sitting around, reading newspapers, talking on cell phones, listening to bad music through earphones - I wonder if they heard the message at all.

posted by Darni @ 3/06/2001 07:04:00 PM