Author's Note- Woodside to Ronkonkoma

    "When I arrived at the station at 11:55 I found my uncomfortable sanctuary and sat alone. Three trains and five pedestrians had passed by. I nonchalantly looked over at the excitement while still keeping up my seemingly uninterested facade. 

     In fact I love watching people, even though my mother taught me it is impolite to stare. I don't stare out of wonderment or to be rude. I just find myself analyzing people and their mannerisms. In my mind, it helps me understand people and the world. 

    For example one man passed by my lonely bench listening to music. He was an older black man who's balding head gave away his age. He was wearing a thick black sweater, despite the pending heat conditions of the day. A while latter he came back and accompanied me in my hideout. His bobbing head and foot tapping gave me the impression that he was really enjoying his music. Who could blame him. Music was meant to be enjoyed. Sometimes I catch myself enjoying my music, half dancing, half keeping my composure as I mouth along to my favorite melodies." 

      I was inspired to write this vignette, "Woodside- Ronkonkoma" while I was waiting for my train on my daily commute home. I was sitting on the platform awaiting the train in my own thoughts, so I decided to document them. The piece centers around what my observations are of my surroundings and inner reflections based on my findings.  

     After I read the vignette by Lorriaine Sweger-Perez, I realized that there were parts of our stories that were similar in context. Both our stories center around public transportation and our descriptions of our settings.However, Sweger's story has more of a recollection of what happened during her train ride, while mine is just my inner commentary of what I witnessed around me.  

     I have written pieces like this one before, most of them as I wait for the train or as I am commuting. Most of the vignettes or prose pieces I have I jot down quickly on my phone or on a computer, just letting the words pour out.

[Full Vignette]

The train rushed past me as I sat on the bench at the station. I'd been there for over thirty minutes and my train was no where in sight. The harsh yet relaxing sounds of hip hop flowed through my head phones cutting off my sense from the rest of the world. I tried to sit back and squirmed as the uncomfortable metal bench irritated my bare thighs. The cold, hard sensation made me tense as it scratched the back of my legs. 

"It's a beautiful day" I recall saying to a friend, soaking in all the rays of sunshine. Autumn is one of my favorite seasons, along with spring. It's just the right amount of warmth and chill. The sun had been hiding behind the clouds all morning and was finally beginning to peak out its fiery head. The bench is located at the end of the platform, strategically placed behind a large trash can. Unless you've wondered the platform, like I have, or you're a loner who avoids people at all costs, like I am, you wouldn't be able to find it. 

When I arrived at the station at 11:55, I found my uncomfortable sanctuary and sat alone. Three trains and five pedestrians have passed by. I nonchalantly looked over at the excitement while still keeping up my seemingly uninterested facade. 

 In fact I love watching people, even though my mother taught me it is impolite to stare. I don't stare out of wonderment or to be rude. I just find myself analyzing people and their mannerisms. In my mind, it helps me understand people in the world. 

For example one man passed by my lonely bench listening to music. He was an older black man who's balding head gave away his age. He was wearing a thick black sweater despite the pending heat conditions of the day. A while latter he came back and accompanied me in my hideout. His bobbing head and foot tapping gave me the impression that he was really enjoying his music. Who could blame him? Music was meant to be enjoyed. Sometimes I catch myself enjoying my music, half dancing, half keeping my composure as I mouth along to my favorite melodies.  

12:20 came and the automated voice at the station said "The 12:25 train to Ronkonkoma is operating on time." As if possessed by a well known trance, my new subject and I both checked our times assuring that the voice spoke the truth. 

Five minutes later the train came and my companion got up as it came to a slow but steady halt. I sat there a little while longer enjoying my now tainted, uncomfortable metal bench, sanctuary. When the train finally stopped I stood up and walked to the doors waiting for it to open as I examined how incredibly skinny my dress made my legs look, through the blurred reflection of the tinted glass.  

The door opened with a whirling sound and I found the closest, empty seat, to the door. The leather seats stuck to my thighs as I sat in the already impressed half of the chair close to the wall. The humanly robotic voice declared that the next station would be Jamaica, which was as loud as a whisper compared to my booming headset. I sat back as I hid in the large seats from other train riders.  

The conductor came to me, checked my ticket and moved on to the next passenger. Not until half way through the ride I realized that I chose the seat next to the toilet. 

 For the rest of the ride, I watched as people walked in and out of the sliding restroom doors, thinking to my self "Do they know there's a flashing light that says 'TOILET OUT OF ORDER'?" I snickered to myself as I sat for the rest of my train ride, trying not to pay attention to the unsuspecting riders. I took a short nap and I had woken up just in time to catch my stop. I stood by the door waiting to the train doors to slide open and as they did the sun hit my cheeks, leaving them with a burning hot sensation. I took a leisurely stroll back home, anticipating the next afternoon when I would do it all again.