~Transit Worker Edition~

I can't see shit!


I never carry my glasses and my contact was irritating me so I threw it away.

Clearly I didn't think this through. I had multiple hours left to work staring at the computer and I can't see at night with BOTH contacts. Smh

I ponder for about five seconds if I should take a cab home or not. It's not that late.

I walk down the steps to the subway.

In a form fitting royal blue belted dress and cheetah print sandals, I'm fumbling with my large bag trying to get my headphones while texting and trying to see how long I have to wait for the next train.

I'm deep in my bag totally oblivious to my surroundings. I hear a voice. "Daaamn"

I don't look up. He sounds like someone's pervy uncle. He's saying something else. I'm half listening.

He says, "I like your natural hair. Actually. I like everything." I offer a smile in hopes he will go away. I finally look up. It's the man from the booth. He asks if I take this train every night. I smile but do not answer. He continues to talk. "I'm here every Monday and Tuesday" he says.

I squint at the sign wondering why this three minutes is taking so long.

He's not bad looking. Handsome even. But he is probably old enough to be my father.

He asks my name. "Mocha" I say. "Oh you know they have a spot called Moca uptown" I roll my eyes. "Yes, I know."

He laughs.

This is the longest three minutes in life.

"So are you gonna give me your number?" I smile as I get on the train and the doors close behind me wondering how I'm gonna avoid him tomorrow.



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA