my favorite time of day is 7:30, and my favorite strangers are train people. taking the south line, almost everyone is sleeping. some people are headed to the airport, and these guys are usually the business type of folk. they feel like home sometimes, which makes me feel some kind of icky. i could never be a member of their little club, of course, but there's something about the black shoes made of patenty-shit or whatever it's called. it reminds me of taking the lirr into new york when i was younger. at least, i think that's what those memories are of. most of those are fabricated, i'm told. the winter ones are farther off, because winter in new york means a really young me. summer memories last until about twelve or thirteen, but winter memories end at six.
so the southbound train is full of these airport people, and also the pack from suburbia. they all have to be to work by eight, but if you catch the 7:30 train then that isn't going to happen. they check their watches anyway, as if that could possibly make the train move faster. it's pointless to worry about time when you're on marta. you'll get there when you get there, the end. the atlanta natives know that, and you can easily pick them out on the south line. the business types who aren't heading to the airport all get off at midtown or five points. you won't catch them rushing at the latter, because they know that the doors will stay open a really long time. or maybe they don't have to be to work by eight. most likely, they probably realize that eight just isn't. on the 7:30 southbound train, a woman comes on at the midtown stop. "if you have to be at work by eight, you've got six minutes." that's as personal as it gets on marta, so i like her. off at five points, then i go east. it's one stop, so i don't know the people that well. i exit with the georgia staters, and most of them carry art supplies. i don't look around when i'm going east, so that's it.
and i know that i'm not the only one to feel the division.
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