The lucky one

Jim is just about the only person I know without an iPod device of some kind. He's made his reasons fairly clear on this: for the most part, he doesn't like feeling closed off from the rest of the world. He thinks having headphones on makes one significantly less aware of one's surroundings, and not in a good way.

Foolish, foolish Jim. As a proud iPhone owner, I can simultaneously read The New York Times, update phone apps, check multiple email accounts and play a wicked game of solitaire, all while rocking the fuck out. How much more aware can you get?

This morning I am doing just that. I'm on the Belmont train platform waiting to be whisked downtown. There is a lot of spam in my work email, so I am feverishly deleting ("Satisfy your lover!" "Don't look stoopid!" "V!Aqra!"). Alison Krauss and Union Station is in my ears, which is just right after a terrible night of insomnia. As I board the next train, the song "The Lucky One" kicks on.

Of course the train is packed. It's always packed. Otherwise it would run the risk of being pleasant. But no worries here, because I have the virtual world before me! I'm plugged in! I'm online! I have my finger on the pulse of my own digital existence!

You're the lucky one, so I've been told,
As free as the wind blowin' down the road,
Loved by many, hated by none,
I'd say you're lucky 'cause I know what you've done...

I'm still in the midst of deleting spam, and people are still cramming on the train car. As usual, the middle of the train seems roomy, and prospective passengers throw the dirtiest of looks down the aisle to those people who refuse to smash together a few inches more. I am paying them no mind as I get shoved and reshoved, and my left arm moves up with a jerk. Right up the ass of the woman standing next to me, to be exact. I look up. She looks at me with a grimace.

I say "I'm sorry," but I can't hear myself above my own music. My guess from her reaction is that I yelled it. I look down. Her foot is nearly under mine, and I realize that I may have stepped on it. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's not an ass grab thing at all. It would be much better for me, for my state of mind, if all I did was hurt her instead of inappropriately touching her. I mumble another "so sorry" and press "delete" on my spam. Fucking spam. She turns back to her newspaper, or book, or whatever old-school communication device she is holding. We're okay now, she and I, though I'm still feeling embarrassed and slightly confused. I imagine I will recover.

You look at the world with a smilin' eye
And laugh at the devil as his train goes by

That's when the train finally begins to move with a lurch, and I realize I'm not holding onto anything. No way am I going to now fall into this woman. No way. Inertia be damned! So, in the very same millisecond, like a seasoned train pro, I fiercely grab the bar next to me. Got to get a good grip, and fast.

Only it's not the bar. It's the face of a woman on the other side of me.

Her face.

I have violently grabbed the face of this other innocent person. And not just any grab. We're talking bowling ball grab. My thumb is virtually in her mouth, my index finger in her eye, and the rest of my hand, is - god only knows - somewhere in her hair, perhaps around her ear?

I reel in horror. I pull my hand back and start apologizing profusely. Oh, why couldn't it have been her arm or back or ass, even... why her face? I fumble with my phone but can't seem to get the music off.

To you the next best thing
To playin' and winning is playin' and losing...

I yank on the headphone cord to pull them out of my ears and restart my apologies: "Uhhh.... oh. I'm so.... so - you okay there? - so very sorry." This is all I can say, though I want to say so much more. I was reaching for the bar, I want to explain! I was just - oh my god - I am so unbelievably sorry. Are you okay? That must have hurt, at least somewhat. I mean that was your face. I just grabbed a huge handful of face, and it was yours. Holy crap. Jeez, sorry. Wow, right in the face.

I pause, thinking that maybe death is a good way to go at this point.

But, wait. Wait just a second here. I look more closely at her... Hey! It's no matter! No matter at all! Why? Because she is not paying attention! She has her own unmistakable white earbuds on and is paying me no mind! She doesn't even care that I just got a manicure from her head! Zero reaction. Zip! She's too busy rocking out! She's okay! She's better than okay! She is awesome!

I give her one more look to make sure, and safely return to my stance, my music, my world. Amazingly, no harm no foul.

I cannot believe my luck.