Monday, June 14, 2010

What To Do, What To Do-

So I guess that this is my first official post on the blog, barring the introduction. That being said, if I had had my way then the introduction would have been three times longer, but I’m trying to learn to be a more self-controlled writer, so there's that.

This is more of an autobiographical entry, as opposed to my thoughts on any particular subject. It happened recently, so I thought I would just hammer this out and hope people liked it. Speaking of current events, I saw
The A-Team today; it wasn't bad.

On Saturday day I spent the day with friends, and after grabbing some all-you-can-eat sushi at a pretty decent restaurant, we decided to head uptown to our old neighbourhood. So there we were, riding the subway south, just the three of us.

Now it's important that I paint a picture in your brain of how we were sitting, and hopefully I don't waste too many words on this. I was sitting with my left shoulder against the wall, facing the back of the subway; my friend Peter was on my right. Sitting in front of me, with his back to the wall, was Terence, facing the other side of the subway.

So we're cruising along, nearing our final destination, which is the northmost subway station, and then it happened.

The doors across from where we were sitting opened up, and a man stepped in. He was middle-aged, definitely in his forties or up, and was somewhat hefty. The man stepped on the subway and sat roughly across from where Terence was. The man was wearing a pink tutu, and had a little pink handbag under one arm.

Before I could help myself I was crouched over, silently laughing.

It was a terrible, terrible moment. I quickly straightened up and stared straight ahead before letting an uncontrollable giggle burst from my lips. Staring straight down, I tried to force the amusement away, tried to lock it behind sombre doors with titles like "world tragedies" and "your brother has cancer."

Terence, who had also laughed a little, was crouched over, staring intently at his phone. He gave it his full attention, even vocally informing everyone on the subway that he was reading (and laughing at) text messages. I stared directly at a spot on the side of Terence's chair, and talked to Peter. Every now and then Terence would shake or laugh for a split second, and I would almost lose it. As I was talking to Peter I would hesitate, stuttering through words as I fought to keep it all in.

The man stepped off on the stop before ours, and we all inwardly breathed sighs of relief.

Waiting at that final station for another friend to pick us up, I let it all out. The laughter exited slowly, sporadically, and I felt the tension ease its way out. Out of the nineteen years I've spent on this earth, I can honestly say I've never felt so certain I was going to hell than that moment.

I'm sorry, and still am. It's easy to type and I said it over and over after it had happened. Barring my remorse and shame, however, I had been terrified. I had publicly laughed at a large man in a ballet costume, and I had been frightened out of my mind. It had exacerbated, instead of lessened, my giggling. My initial amusement was further fueled by nervous laughter; I was easily as scared, if not more so, than I was entertained.

Looking back on that day, at those ten or so horrible minutes on that subway, I'm not really sure what to think. The first thing my mind remembers is being afraid, with only the slightest afterthought to the amusement. It's difficult for me to even recall what he looked like.

This is all very drawn out and awkwardly written, but I just wanted to share this snippet of my life with you. Sometimes things happen and you can't control them. It's just that sometimes, after it's happened, it's difficult to understand what exactly to do with that experience.

Sharing this is what I've decided to do with mine.

6 comments:

  1. Like I said, not all of these posts are going to be autobiographical. Actually, I'm really hoping most of them won't be.

    I hope that some of you will comment on this. Maybe some of you can tell me what a horrible person I am.

    ReplyDelete
  2. i like this. i like when you write things.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Evan, how do you find yourself in situations like this? I mean, that scenario is television-worthy!

    And, for real, fat men in pink ballet costumes are just funny. Absolutely no shame on you for laughing. What did the guy expect? To walk onto a subway in a tutu and not generate a giggle?

    I'm surprised you did not spend more time puzzling over why this man was wearing a tutu on the subway in the first place. What possible reason would he have to do that? And what gives him the right?? Did he lose a bet? Was it a prank? Perhaps he was at a ballet lesson and found out about some family crisis and so had to leave in a hurry, neglecting to change into normal, subway-appropriate clothes? Or maybe he just likes wearing tutus...

    That question would have been, and now will be, plaguing my mind for days to come. Thanks Evan, I'm losing sleep now because of your blog. Good job.

    -Adam<3

    ReplyDelete
  4. I read this, and I'll have to say that if I was there, I would have laughed too. I probably would have taken a picture and sent it to failblog not 5 minutes after it happened. Sometimes, it helps not to have a conscience lol.

    ReplyDelete
  5. That sounds totally hilarious...I have to admit though, I'm not really getting the fear. Do you have a phobia of ballerinas?

    ReplyDelete
  6. I'm afraid of dudes dressed as ballerinas who could potentially beat me with their fists and whatnot. Or who could worsen an already embarrassing situation.

    ReplyDelete

Write stuff down there if you have something to say.