Harold, as I like to call him yells "there's two bike cars on the train to a group of riders who all want to start their weekend." I am sitting across from Phil who has got his ray-bans in his collared shirt pocket, a beer in his right hand, playing The SIMS with his left.
Dianne with the uneven pixie cut is bitching to her sister about Tracy and Johanna's PDA in the apartment. We've reached Menlo Park and a family of four is running with backpacks full of Giants gear. Harold has re-filled his little pink nalgene with ice cold water. I bet it feels slippery when it mixes with the sweat. "TICKETS PLEASE."
Johnny on the spot with the boxer glove, arm-band tats and board shorts looks up at me, interested in the blonde. He disregards Harold's announcement about sharing seats and leaves his bad on the one beside him.
Everybody excuse me: Joe with the paper-bagged bottle is coming through. Harold can't stop checking tickets today. He has seen my September pass three times. We're moving faster than the cars on El Camino. Joe's stuff is blocking an escape route, I wonder if Harold will notice.
Jody walks upstairs chewing gum wearing an I :I New York shirt on, how very Silicon Valley of her. I text Sami to see if he is on the train.
Flip top. New TXT MSG TO: add PQRS, scroll down, choose Samuel, OK: are u on the train?
Five seconds later... REPLY: Yes. Second car from front.
ME: shut up r u serious, me too, i'm upstairs.
Shit, I hope he doesn't find me here. This is creepy. I can't see behind me.
My fears realized:
Samuel: No, you shut up, I'm in the back half.
My stomach hurts, I think I am starving.
So, where's the hot dog stand?
