THE JOYS OF COMMUTING SERIES – Quiet Car Police

It’s another fun day on the Metra train. Where the Quiet Car Police take their jobs very seriously. Such was the case just the other day from one such self-appointed “Officer,” who makes it her daily duty to shush fellow passengers.

In case you’re not a train commuter, the Quiet Car was enacted several years back to ensure a designated car with quiet space for riders. Usual rules include: no conversations with others or via cell phone. Typical stuff… nothing too difficult to maintain.

DISCLAIMER: Of course, you’ll hear this story from my own point of view. After all, it’s my blog and I’ll write what I choose. Fair warning: I can be a snob. But most of you already know that about me.

Now, it doesn’t matter that I never cared for the woman to begin with. I’ve thought about saying Good Morning to her several times, except she makes absolutely NO eye contact while we wait on the platform for our morning train. Plus, she’s always scowling.

Nope, she just doesn’t seem approachable.

Plus consider the fact that she wears bright yellow Crocs shoes, which — to me — are hideous enough already as they are made from polyethylene vinyl acetate (“PEVA”). Yuck — Just trying to pronounce polyethylene vinyl acetate is enough to make my mouth frown. Her shoes (slippers to be more exact) are not only ugly, but they are a glaring yellow color. Which, if you ask me, just doesn’t suit a downtown commuter. She looks like Daffy Duck wearing those gaudy things.

Back to my story. I got on the Metra’s Quiet Car and sat in my usual spot on the main floor. I barely noticed the other usual passengers, including a gentleman and his daughter who ride the train each day. One can determine he’s an attorney due to the logo embroidered on his laptop bag.

He and his daughter seem like decent folk. Well dressed. Hard working. You get the picture.

Said daughter apparently had an issue with the strap and buckle on her sandal. Said father leaned over and tried to help her adjust the buckle. It seemed they were having a bit more trouble than expected.

“You’ll be fine for now,” he told his daughter. “I suggest you take it straight to the shoe repair once we reach downtown,” he advised.

Said daughter nodded and returned to scanning her iPhone.

Except this is when Miss Self-Designated Quiet Car Officer (a/k/a Crocs shoes lady) got up from her seat and marched over toward the talking pair. Steam was already coming out of her ears. Boy, I could tell this one was gonna be a doozy! I sat back and watched.

“This is the Quiet Car!” she hissed to the guilty pair in the upper berth. “No talking!” she warned, shaking her finger at the man and his daughter.

The berated gentleman , however, remained cool and cordial.  As his profession demands, he was unwavering.  “Put your earbuds back in and go sit down,” he succinctly advised.  “You’ll be just fine.”

Clearly, this woman was still put out. “This is why I sit on the quiet car!” she insisted, her shrill voice raising.  “To have peace and quiet!” 

By now she was shaking with fury. She grimaced and pouted her lips at the father and daughter duo. Except they weren’t intimidated with her dirty looks.

She had no choice but to regress. With that, she waddled back to her seat.   Ooh, this was getting fun.

And that’s where my arrogant self came in. Because, truth be told, I was experiencing a bit of schadenfreude with this whole situation. I never was a fan of the Daffy Duck look.

“And take your gold ducky shoes with you!” I chuckled to myself, as I watched her retreat in complete defeat.

Of course, I didn’t say it to her out loud. After all, it’s the Quiet Car… Plus, that woman seriously frightens me.

Thank you for reading – PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST