Old friends

They see each other from across the train car. Old friends. Friends from high school, perhaps?

These two young women make their way towards each other, but, due to the density of people riding to work, can only manage to get within about eight feet of each other. They greet one another loudly and with wild abandon. The larger one speaks a little more softly and concisely, the smaller one not so much. She is shrill. She is what most would label "a talker." We hate her.

The larger woman, it seems, has gotten a new job at an architectural firm, which she likes very much. The smaller woman has been at the same advertising place for five years, and can you believe that she started there at only 30K? Can you believe that it took five years to get to 64? This city, she notes for us all, is a tough city to live in, financially speaking. How could she live on 30K, when 64K is hard as it is? Her friend, the larger woman, just sort of stares back at her. She is a little embarrassed. We all are.

The smaller woman asks her friend about her job. She asks if she makes enough. The larger woman nods ever so slightly. The smaller woman is now curious about her friend's job. What is the company again? What is their story? Where are they located? It turns out the main office is in Boston. This is big news for the smaller woman. See, her boyfriend is originally from Boston.

The larger woman perks up a bit, now. She knows Boston rather well. She wants to know where her little spaz of a friend's boyfriend is from. Where in Boston, specifically?

This gives the smaller woman pause. She's not entirely sure. She is the kind of person who hates to be unsure. So, she makes up for it in volume. She kind of yells to the larger woman, and to the train car in general, that her boyfriend is from the part of Boston where all the Jewish people live. Does she know where that is? The larger woman is now having increased problems. She breaks a sweat. She turns sort of apple colored. She hates this even more than we do. The smaller woman, having gotten little response, pushes the matter. Of course she pushes! It's what she does! It's who she is! You know, the Jewish people? Isn't there an area where they live?

The train is like a black hole of sound. Nothing can escape, it just gets pulled deep down into nothingness, and all we're left with is this small woman yelling about Boston Jews.

The train lurches to a stop. The smaller woman gets off the train to switch to a different line. The larger woman experiences relief like nothing else. We all smile at her knowingly. It's not her fault. She shouldn't feel bad. She should just feel terrible, like us.