Press "Enter" to skip to content

TruStory: Public Transportation 

I don’t think anyone LOVES public transportation, or at least I don’t. I’m assuming most people are like me (how modest) and have a very intense love/hate relationship with it.

For example, I LOVE when I can take the train home after a few cocktails and I don’t have to worry about driving. I HATE when the train is 45 minutes late, it’s hotter than hell in the station, and all I can smell is hot garbage. See where I’m going with this?

Well, last week, I decided I deserved a night on the town. I dolled myself up, called my friends (ok, I texted them, phone calls are so 90s) and started the night with a vodka soda. Somewhere between that first vodka soda and the 5th vodka soda, I met a man who peaked my interest, so much so that I decided to ditch my friends and spend the night with him. We went to so many bars that I actually lost track, or maybe I lost track because of the vodka but that’s not the point of this story. I ended up staying at his place that night because I’m a strong, independent woman and I make my own choices (or that’s what I’m telling myself today).

The next morning, I crawled out of bed, put my little cocktail dress back on, grabbed my heels, and hit the road. If you googled walk of shame, my image would come up. I made my way about 3 blocks to the train station and surprisingly, it was pretty quiet. I felt horrible, my head was pounding, and I didn’t even fix my hair or makeup before leaving.

I’m waiting for the train and a homeless man is standing about 5 feet away. I can tell he keeps looking at me and I’m assuming he’s going to ask for money. I keep looking straight ahead because I can hardly take care of myself at this moment, much less interact with other humans.

What happens next will live with me forever. This man leans over and says to me, “Are you okay? You don’t look well.” A HOMELESS MAN IS JUDGING MY APPEARANCE. A HOMELESS MAN JUST TOLD ME I DON’T LOOK WELL. I AM SCREAMING INSIDE. But instead, I smile and say “I’m fine, thanks.” Less than 15 seconds later, the train pulls up and I jump on, and the man that judged me stayed on the platform.

As the train pulled away, him and I made eye contact the whole time. I’m not sure what he was thinking, potentially he was still thinking about how unwell I looked. But I will tell you one thing, NEXT TIME I’M SPLURGING FOR AN UBER.