What Not to Say

Last weekend, I took an impromptu trip home to visit my parents. It was very productive: I filed my taxes, did my laundry, and visited my grandmother. The only difficult part was finding a bus ride back to Boston. I have gotten in the habit of taking the Bolt Bus, because it conveniently drops me off at Penn Station in New York City. The hassle of trekking to Penn from the Port Authority is eliminated. I would pay more for this luxury, but Bolt Bus also happens to be pretty cheap. Since I'm not the only one who has figured out this little secret, getting tickets on popular travel days can be a challenge. For trips home at Thanksgiving, for example, I book my tickets about a month in advance. However, I figured, how many people would be traveling to New York in early March? As it turns out: plenty. Apparently it is spring break for many of the fine institutions of higher learning that are nestled in this great city. Now, I never went home on Spring Break, so it didn't occur to me until it was too late. Fortunately, I was able to find a bus home that wasn't completely booked early Sunday morning, so I acted quickly and purchased my ticket.

Upon boarding the bus, I noticed that it was already pretty crowded. Resorting to my keen profiling abilities, I chose to sit next to a relatively young blond kid in a North Face jacket who was reading a paperback. How dangerous could this fellow be? Not very, I assumed. Probably a freshman in college. A few moments later, I was comfortably seated, and had opened up "The World According to Garp" to page 254. All of a sudden, my concentration was broken by a cell phone that was blaring "Everytime We Touch." The embarrassment on my neighbor's face was a dead giveaway that the phone belonged to him. He answered as soon as he could, but it was too late. "Hi Mom," he said in a hushed voice. "I can't talk right now, I'm on the bus." Luckily, for him, the driver then asked for everyone's attention. We were told that there would be some rules on this bus that were non-negotiable. First of all, there was to be no smoking on the vehicle. Duh. Then, there were some rules that were negotiable, like drinking. What? Did I get on a party bus by accident? It was 10am on a Sunday! I looked around to gauge how others were reacting to the driver's joke. Some people were laughing, but my neighbor did not appear to be amused. This was a bit surprising because he looked like the kind of freshmen who went to college and discovered beer. Yep, it was going to be a long ride. At about the two hour mark, we pulled off the highway at a rest stop. I was hoping to get a cup of coffee, but sadly, the only choices were Sbarro and Arby's. I settled for the yogurt I had in my bag, and worked on finishing the crossword I had started that morning. Then, it happened. My neighbor tried to strike up a conversation. Before the words came out of his mouth, I knew what he was going to say "So, uh, do you go to college in Boston?" This wasn't the first time I had heard this line on the Bolt Bus. Last fall, a similar young boy had asked me the same thing, and had then continued talking to me, sharing relatively personal details about his life for an hour while we were stuck in traffic in New York City in the rain. Needless to say, it wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat, even with this new freshman. "No," I replied (with a smile) "I work here." I hoped that would do the trick and it did; my response was met with a blank stare, as if it meant we had nothing in common. Then again, it was probably true--I'd be willing to bet that he was born in the 1990s. So as not to be rude, I pointed out that I worked with a guy who went to his college, and that my co-worker was 28. It was a shame, they probably didn’t know each other. I went back to reading Garp and before I knew it we were back in Boston.

I realize that these incidents on the Bolt Bus aren’t particularly exciting, and when I take a step back to assess the situation, I’m sure these kids were just being friendly. But, when you consider my experience, I’m pretty wary of lines that guys have used on me. Now, I’m not implying that this is a regular occurrence, in fact, the opposite is true. But that further reinforces where I am coming from, since I have a couple fairly odd stories that have shaped my views.

So, I’ll explain myself with an anecdote. It all started innocently enough. I had been in Harvard Square to get coffee with a friend, and was taking the T back home. As I waited for the inbound train at the station, standing next to one of those large T maps, a guy approaches me and asks if the train will take him downtown. Yes! He was in luck—the train would indeed take him to his destination (as the giant map confirmed). I felt good about myself, for helping this lost stranger. Who knows where he might have ended up had I not helped him? But then our interaction quickly took a turn for the worse (for me). As soon as we boarded the crowded T, I found myself in very close proximity to this gentleman.

T-Guy: So, what do you do in Boston?
Me (not wanting to share the truth): I work at a consulting firm.
T-Guy: Do you work out?
Me (kind of surprised by the question): I like to run, and sometimes I play tennis. What do you do?
T-Guy: I help people sculpt the bodies of their dreams.

TIME OUT. WHAT? I have to admit, I started laughing. Then I realized that he was serious, and felt bad for mocking his chosen career path. I have no problem with personal trainers. But who really says something like that? I quickly regained composure—I didn’t want to offend him!

Me: How did you get into that?
T-Guy: Well, I just like to help my clients see results, and it lets me work out a lot. Let me ask you, how many pull ups do you think I could do?
Me: I’m sorry, I really have no idea.
T-Guy: I’ll tell you. On a typical day, I’d say 20. But if you were cheering me on, I’d say I could do 30.

Help! Where was my stop! I couldn’t wait to get out of the T. I was hoping he didn’t decide to get out at the same stop I did. Again, who says things like this? It all started out with his simple plea for directions. And THAT is why I am skeptical of strangers I meet when taking public transportation.

Watch out, people. It’s a dangerous world out there.