The Filmmaker and the Publicist

Right as I reached the top of the train platform on Friday, I heard, “You look out of breath.  What’s your name? I’m Chris.”

I looked up and, as I suspected, it was my oddball train companion.

“Hi, how’s it going?” I must have given him a weird look because he said, “Wait, have we met before? I’m sorry if I don’t remember.”

As the train pulled up, I replied, “Yes, we’ve met a few times. I’m Blair.”

“Oh great,” he said, “than that means you already have my email.  Have you tried to email me yet?  Because if you have, I probably didn’t get it because I’ve been having email problems. So you might want to send it again.”

Me: “No, I haven’t emailed you yet, but thanks for the heads up.”  

As usual, he stood about a foot in front of me on the train, facing me.

“So, what do you do for a job?” he asked. He’s never really asked anything about me, other than if I wanted to hang out, so this took me a bit off guard. How much is safe to reveal to someone who seems harmless but could very well be carrying a severed human head in his bag?

“I work in public relations. You know, like publicity.”  Blank stare.

I thought for a minute and said, “Like, if you read a newspaper article and there is a person in there talking about something. I’m the one who gets that person interviewed for the story.” Blank stare.

He thought for a while and slowly began, “So….I’m a filmmaker.  I just haven’t made a film yet.  I’m trying to get funding from social security disability.  If that doesn’t work, I guess I’ll have to get a Hollywood studio to fund my film because I’m going to need a lot of awesome special effects. And then that means I’ll have to move out to Los Angeles.  The reason I’m saying this is because I’ll need an agent and a publicist.  And I’d like you to be my publicist.”

Blank stare.  Only this time from me.

Just Call Me Matthew

Last night during my run, I stopped by the train station to buy my weekly pass.  I handed the ticket guy a commuter credit card.

He said: “This is not your card. Can I see some ID?”

I calmly replied: “It is my card.  I’m in the middle of a run, and I’m not carrying ID. If you don’t give me the pass, I’m screwed for tomorrow’s commute.”

The guy looked down at the card again and asked skeptically: “Your name is Matthew?”

After thinking for a split second as to what answer will get me the pass, I casually replied: “Yes.”

Guy repeated in disbelief: “Your name is Matthew?”

Me: “Yes.”

I could see the guy mull it over, and watched as he formulated a plan in his head to disprove my identity. He grabbed a piece of scrap paper, flipped it over and slid it under the call window.

Guy: “Ok then, sign this.” At this point, I knew exactly what he was doing.  He was trying to see if my signature matched the one on the back of the card. Little did he know, it’s actually my signature on the back of that card.  I happily signed—my cursive "MC" matching perfectly—and slid the piece of paper back through the slat in the window.

He leaned back in his chair and, thinking I couldn’t hear him because we were separated by a thin piece of glass, said to his colleagues:  “Huh, what do you know.  Her name is Matthew.”

I Bet You Use That Line on All the Girls

Last night after I crossed the street on my walk to class, I randomly looked over my left shoulder, and to my surprise, there was this dude standing within a foot of me.  He looked like an average guy in his early 20s but just startled me because I didn’t expect to see him there—and so close.

I kept walking—thinking nothing of it—but he came up aside of me and sort of peeked around my arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But I just wanted to tell you that you’re extremely beautiful, and I wanted to introduce myself.”

Me being me, I grabbed more tightly onto my bags thinking he’s trying to distract me while someone else robs me.  But he continued chatting, asking my name, where I’m headed, etc.  I chatted for a minute but then said, “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m actually late for school.”

He asked, “Can I call you sometime? I’d love to get together.”

I replied, “I’m married, sorry.”

He said, “Well if you’re ever looking for a second husband…”  I gave a courtesy laugh and walked away. 

While walking home with two classmates after school, I said, “You guys will never guess what happened to me right  in this spot on my walk in to school. This guy came up to me….”

“Oh my gosh, I know what you’re going to say!” shouted Kate. “Did this guy come up and tell you how beautiful you are?!”

I replied, “Yes! He came up to you too!?”

Kate said, “Yes! I got suspicious because I know I look like crap today, but I was having a bad day so thanked him for the compliment.”

I said, “Me too!”

Kate and I compared stories and descriptions of the guy, and came to the conclusion that it was the same guy on the same street corner with the same lines.

However, we’re still unsure as to what the heck he was doing—robbery, human trafficking, psychology study, honest-to-goodness trying to get a date?   Any way you slice it, I feel icky.

Cheese and Twig

So, today I'm the weirdo.  I'm commuting home carrying only a half-eaten block of mozzerella cheese in my hand.  No, wait...the guy brushing his teeth with a twig has me beat.

Pull-ups When the Train Pulls Up

So, there’s this guy who rides the El sometimes—he narrates the stops with the announcer, and then does a set of pull-ups.  Although I couldn’t pull out my phone fast enough to catch his narration, I was able to catch a few seconds of his workout regimen.

Man (in one continuous thought): “Doors opening! Doors closing! Ladies and gentleman you'll want to get off at this stop if you want to go to California, North Carolina, DC, Harrisburg or New Hampshire.  But, make sure you buy food before you get on the plane because it's really expensive otherwise. Boy, I need some energy." He proceeds to do pull-ups on the stainless steel bar. "I know, I know, I have issues, but I hope you all have a wonderful day!"

Teach a Man to Fish, and He'll Ask that Fish Weird Questions

On Friday evening, my friend and co-worker drove me to the train platform because it was freezing outside.  I said to her, “Whenever I walk, I’m always waiting across the street at the light when my train pulls up, so then I’m stuck waiting about 20 minutes for the next one.  Always happens!”  Low and behold, as she pulled up to the light, the train arrived.  She made a quick turn, and I sprinted up the stairs.  I heard the familiar beeping of the train doors closing, and I yelled in one last desperate attempt, “Wait!!!! Please! I’m coming!!!”  To my surprise, the train conductor opened the door and let me on.  I was out of breath and beginning to sweat, and then I heard, “Wow, you almost didn’t make it.”

What was said wasn’t weird by any means.  What was weird was that the person who said it spoke within an inch of my ear and had his entire body pressed up against mine, which triggered an immediate recognition.

I slowly shifted my eyes to the left, and as I expected, my train dude, Chris, was standing right next to me….well, right up against me.  Please note that the train was not crowded, not even a little.  He was wearing a giant fighter pilot hat, and his glasses were all fogged up.

I said, “Yeah….that was a close one.” When he made no attempt to remove his body from mine, I took a few steps backward and leaned against the steel railing.  He turned, took a few steps, and stood face-to-face with me, with probably about a foot between us.

Chris—“You want to know what song I have in my head right now?  It’s off the soundtrack from the movie Belly.”

Me—“I don’t know that song.” I found it hilarious that this little squirrely dude enjoyed the movie Belly.

Chris—“Oh.  Do you have a song stuck in your head right now?”

Me—“I normally do, but not at the moment.”

Chris looked down, took a piece of scrap paper and pen out of his pocket, and began writing.  I could already guess what he was writing down, and I was right.

Chris—“Here’s my email and phone number, you know, in case you want to be friends.”

I thanked him, took it, and put it in my pocket.  And I giggled a little to myself because I remembered that his email is mad-dog13@.... 

Chris—“So, I’m headed to First Friday tonight in Olde City.  Any chance you want to come with me?”

Me—“Sorry, no, I have hockey tonight. Thanks for the invite though.”

A guy standing near us pops his head right over Chris’ shoulder and says, “Hockey?! What kind of hockey do you play?”

Me—“Dek hockey.  Just for fun, you know, exercise and all that.”

Guy—“I love checking people! Where do you play, I’d love to play too.”

Me—“Oh, out in DelCo.”

Guy—“That’s just too far. I can’t be expected to go that far.”

Chris—“So, do you watch the show The Soup?”

Me—“Sometimes.”

Chris—“I was watching it this week, and in one segment they put this couple up on screen, and I had no idea who they were. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Me—“Shoot, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t see it.”

Chris—“Well if you could go home and watch it and get back to me with an answer, that would be great.”

Me—“Ok, will do.”

So far, the conversation was a bit odd as expected, but not as intrusive or weird as it normally is, well except for that whole body-contact thing. As we pulled up to the station, I turned toward the door.  Of course, he leaned up against my back.  When the door opened, I jetted out making my way toward the El. I got on a few seconds before the doors closed, and sat down on an inside seat….always risky when Chris is following somewhere behind me.  Fortunately, the neighboring seat remained open.  About five stops later, someone sat down and I could feel eyes on me.  I looked to the side and it was Chris. 

Chris—“Hi again.  I’m reading The Onion.  Would you like it next?”

Me—“No thanks.” Coincidentally, I was reading The Onion online right at that moment. 

So, at this point I knew he was going to First Friday and therefore would be getting off at my stop. Unsure of how to handle this, I asked him to let me up the stop prior. He stood and walked right toward the train doors. I got up and turned left, toward the opposite end.  I leaned against the stainless steel bars and when I looked up, Chris was standing right in front of me.

Chris—“So, have you reconsidered?”

Me—“Reconsidered what?”

Chris—“You know, ditching hockey and coming with me to First Friday.”

Me—“Nope, sorry, I’m going to hockey.”

Chris—“Well, is First Friday on the way to hockey.”

Me—“No, sorry. Have fun though.”

Chris—“Well, make sure that you watch The Soup and let me know who that celebrity couple is.”

Me—“Ok, will do.”