James used to call me now and then as he rode trax home, and I have to admit that I teased him about it. Not about calling me of course, I loved those calls, but about the amount of noise that accompanies a journey on trax. He is still the trax master, but I have definitely had my fair share of trax experiences. The convenience and actual ride is amazing ... the people I encounter ... more often than not scare the bejesus out of me.
I rode trax from my house, downtown to the Zion's bank; I needed to exchange money and fill my wallet with euros. On the way back to my house, an older lady with a walking stick started asking me a million questions about the bus system. I, as I am noticing is a consistent thing, am not helping. I have no idea about the buses, I don't even know where to send her to find out, other than the drug store across the street. However, I was terrified to point this out to her because I was afraid that she was a little wonky and might try crossing the street right in front of me. Sigh. She was grateful for the attempt at help, and when we climbed on to trax, and most of the seats had at least one occupant, I was glad that I had this new old lady friend to sit next to.
Unfortunately, across the aisle, right next to me, was a mom and her daughter, who were talking to a pregnant lady kitty corner to them. I tried to drown myself in my book, but to my horror, I was ripped out of my story by the mom's slow, thick, "Oh great, we can't go to Walmart anymore. She just shit herself up and down."
Pregnant lady's face had to have mirrored mine. (Disbelief, disgust, really did you just announce that? Your daughter looks like she's six years old.) A guy that was directly across from the mother and daughter duo was holding his nose in pure despair, and for have a second I entertained the thought that it was he who had actually messed himself "up and down." He definitely looked guilty. Added bonus: The guy had a huge gaping hole in the crotch of his pants. Lovely.