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Array
(
[sid] => 2462
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The morning Trek!
[time] => 2002-08-19 10:26:17
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The morning Trek!
A look at the urban morning transit ritual. Today, I shall take you on a trip some of us know all too well and have taken many times before, infact, a large percentage of us take each and every morning. We shall run through the morning transit trek, as we hit the station and get on the train. On our trip, our look at the morning daily trek, we shall see many things, from those possessing America’s great entrepreneur spirit to the destitute and down on their luck, homeless. We shall walk through a place where people who have many reasons to rejoice cross paths with those who lives seem to have no hope at all. We start our trip at a major metropolitan subway station, which one and in what city it doesn’t really matter, all the experience are relatively the same. As you first enter the station, down the stairs you go, braving its soiled, trashladen stairwell, trying not to slip, trip, or fall and definitely not to tough anything. And as you proceed in to the station, at the bottom of the stairs, you notice, stench first, a soiledly dressed man, with cup in hand, saying with his best destitute look on his face, “Spare some change for a poor man down on his luck.” You stand there for a second, mulling over giving him some spare change, YOU KNOW, being a good person and all, While, at the same time, in contrast, thinking Again, Another one, “he just wants money to get drunk.” Not sure of what use he would put your change to, you just walk away, not really knowing if what you did was right or wrong. Doesn’t matter much now. You have a train to catch, So, on you go, taking a minute to sort out appropriate change with which to pay your train fare, suddenly, you hear, the attention grabbing echoes, words, ringing in your ears, such as “POPCORN,” “PEANUTS,” “PRETZELS,” “SODA,” and notice the various venders selling their snacks and many wares. As you take chance in hand ready to pay your train fare, two boys whisk by you and hop over the turnstile. The transit worker in the booth yells “STOP,” but the boys continue on, laughing and chuckling, with, obvious, disrespect, acting, as if, they’ve just accomplish something big. A little flustered you pull out the proper fare and proceed to pay it and through the turnstile, off you go. Heading, down corridor the onto platform you notice a man with a Guitar, giving entertainment or at least what he thinks is entertainment for money, case open with offering from those who liked his play or at least felt sorry for him. When you reach the platform, taking a moment to compose yourself and get acclimated to your surrounding, you notice the Graffiti and the many ads for such things as safe-sex, what to do if you’re a pregnant teen, cigarettes, alcohol, and the latest movies. Then, all of a sudden it hits you, that foul stench of stale, smelly, *****, and from around the corner you hear the sound of a powerful rumbling monster and into view comes a rectangular, steel wheeled, Metal box, a sardine can on wheels, your train, getting ever closer, with each eruptive rumble. BIGGER AND BIGGER, as more into view, it come, until, finally, stopping at the platform at it designated spot. It doors slowly open, the commuters getting off come out, and in, you walk, taking a seat, one not to soiled hopefully, and off, you are with all your impatience, and anxiety, uncertainty, and fear clutched close to you. You’re on your way, although, not quite ready to face another urban morning and dreading tomorrow, because you’ll have to go through all of this, all over again. “Oh my God is this my life,” you think to yourself afraid to look directly at the person sitting across from you, dreading having to talk to anyone, just hoping that the train doesn’t stall or breakdown, causing you to be late for work, Again. Late one more time, and there’s no telling what the boss might do. “Down town, Business district.” You made it! You’ve successfully maneuvered through another urban morning, feels good doesn’t it, but now, you actually have to go to work. I know, it sucks, but that’s life. Hey, Yeah, you have to work all week, but the weekend it is all yours, So, have yourself some fun. You deserve it, for making it through all those dreaded urban mornings and those dreary days at work. Good morning, Good day, and Most of all, Have Yourself a Good Weekend!!! Robert Gardiner R.G.Love [comments] => 1 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 21 [informant] => R.G.Love [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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