phone calls and BFFs

This guy started talking to me on TRAX.  This is not uncommon.  He was kinda crazy.  This is not uncommon.  Our conversation started based on the fact that I was wearing scrubs.  This is not uncommon.

So anyway, here we are talking about nothing and then he asks if he can use my phone.  This is a difficult thing for me on several levels.  First, he may steal it.  Second, he may call some crazy 900 number and rack up my bill.  Third (and most importantly), he will get his germs on my phone.  And who knows where he has been.  I must have given him a look, because then he asked if I would make a call for him.  Hmm.  He wanted me to call his mom.  This guy was probably in his 40s, and I was calling his mom.  I said okay.  Because I am a gluten for punishment like that.  So anyway, I am calling his mom and he is telling me to tell her who I am and stuff.  Like me and his mom are going to be BFFs.  So I start talking to his mom and telling her that her son, Ernie, would like to be picked up at the TRAX station in 20 minutes (and would it be all right if he went out and played with Billy later on... or that is where it felt like it was going).  Then his mom gets all upset like, why am I always having to take care of my 40-something son.  And here I am sitting there taking all her stress in like we are BFFs.  But we are not.  So then I say, okay well have a nice night.  And she hangs up.  On me.  Seriously, I am just an innocent bystander.  Last time I make a call for a random person.

And last time I give a kid a dollar so he can buy some drugs.  Oh wait that was a different story.

Green scrubs of shame

Yesterday at work I went in to calm a crying child down. As I reached to lift the baby I felt my arm get wet. Not a good sign. Another nurse came into the room to see if she could help and I just stood their frozen, afraid to look at what could possibly be on my arm. So I lifted my arm to show her, and it turns out I got poop all over my arm. How the poop got on the outer edge of the crib is a mystery to all. Nevertheless, I was covered with stinky poop. We laughed really hard for a while then I left the crying baby to the other nurse and called to have security meet me so I could get new scrubs out of the storage room. It turns out that the only scrubs available were XL or XXXL. Now, neither of those are my size, nor near my size. Luckily I found a M top, and then just grabbed the XL bottoms. I asked the security guy if there were any other scrubs anywhere and he said no. Then I asked if there were any in the OR. He said their probably were but didn't seem too interested in going with me to look. So, I took what I could get and went back upstairs to change. I looked something like this:

Except the scrubs were longer and the top fit, and I didn't have the ugly hat, and the scrubs were green not bluish, and I wasn't in Africa. Weirdly, I was wearing the same shoes. Okay, so it wasn't much like these pictures, but this was the best I could do.
Everyone at work laughed when they saw me for the rest of the night because you only wear the green scrubs of shame if a baby has produced something that has made a mess on you, and you were not smart enough to wear a gown for protection against possible messiness. I always laugh at the other people, so turn-about is fair play.
Oh, and I got to wear the green scrubs of shame home on TRAX. And they were too long and dragged on the ground and got wet. However, now I have some really comfortable huge pajamas. Lucky me.

Happy days are here again

For about the last month or so (minus one day) I have been really happy again. My usual kind of happy. It is great. My happiness has increased even more in the last 2 weeks. People at work are noticing that I am back to my old self. I no longer have a heaviness about me (not talking about my weight, that is a whole different subject). It feels so good. However, my gray days do help me appreciate the good days so much more. I guess that is the concept that the bitter makes the sweet taste even sweeter. I have had enough bitter for a while, bring on the sweet!
So, an apology to all of you who had to deal with the less-happy version of myself. I am back in full force, watch out.

Oh, and a couple days ago on TRAX this lady got on who was very very drunk. She could hardly walk and smelled very strongly of alcohol. But the amusing part was that she sat right next to a girl who was reading a book (a TRAX faux-pas if there are other seats available without neighbors). She talked to the girl for several minutes (until she got of the train). The girl even said, "I am reading my book, I would rather not talk" or something to that effect. And the girl changed seats. That changed nothing. She was a very persistent drunk conversationalist. It brought a smile to my face.
At work I was telling my coworkers about my amusing train ride and then we all started talking about what kind of drunks we would be. It was determined that I would be a funny drunk. I would probably have a ton of energy and would laugh a lot. It would be annoying to other people, I am pretty sure.
On the TRAX ride home a guy stared at me the entire time. So, to make things even more uncomfortable I stared back. It was awesome.

TRAX and I are in a fight

More accurately, transportation in general and I are in a fight.
So a few days ago I rode TRAX to work. I love TRAX. Normally we get along fabulously. All went wrong on Saturday morning when I was riding home. At the station there were two trains, both shorter than normal. Trying to be smart about it, I chose the longer of the trains to board thinking that they would use the train with more space for transport. Oh how I was wrong. I got on the train, the driver was just standing there waiting around for departure time, a usual occurance. I sit down and only moments later the other train leaves. Rude. I said to the driver "If I would have known the other train was leaving, I would have gotten on that one." He indicated that that was the other portion of our train and we would be meeting up and connecting togther at the next station. Whew. So I sat, patiently waiting. We finally leave the station and meet the other train at the next station. We proceeded to bump into the car in front of us repeatedly while trying to connect all the cars. Apparently if you slam into the train in front of you hard enough the two trains will magically connect. 10ish minutes later, still not connected, the front train leaves. Rude. At this point I have already missed one connecting train. So, we eventually go, way way behind schedule. And, because we had to wait for the other train at each stop, it took forever to get anywhere. Meanwhile, I miss another connecting train (this one I see driving past as we are a mere block from the station. Rude. So, I sat in the freezing cold waiting for the next train for 15 minutes. Personally, I think it would have made a lot more sense to put all of us passengers on one of the trains, and do the normal route, meanwhile having the other train drive past the stations without stopping. Then, connect at the end of the route where there is actually time to do something like that. I should run TRAX. That is if we weren't in a fight.
So, I took a day off from riding the train. We needed our space. Yesterday evening I was all ready to ride again. I head to work at my normal time. The station is a whopping 1.1 miles from my house. Turns out it takes like 10 minutes to go a couple blocks now that the new hospital is open. Rude. I miss my train. Rude. I hate the Death Star aka IMC aka IMed aka Intermountain Medical Center. Turns out from now on if I want to go West I have to go East and if I want to go North I have to go South. Stupid traffic.
Raving completed.

Dwight and Angela

Yesterday I was riding the train home from work and I saw this couple. He was of bigger build with spiky hair, looked to be in his mid 40s. And he is balding (yet still has the spiky awkward hair). She is very small, thin and blond. Neither smile very much. I have seen them several times.

Every time I see them I think of Dwight and Angela and a smile comes to my face.

I wanna be one less, one less

The Facts:
I am riding the train home. In the middle of the car (behind me) is a thin woman with blond hair and a pink shirt. Every few stops she stands up, walks the length of the car, nodding her head as she looks at each person, then sits down. Between stops she picks up her book and appears to read. At each stop she closely watches the doors and looks at every person entering and leaving the train while holding her PDA in her hand, then notes something in her PDA.

The Theories:
OCD: There is a strong possibility that she may truly be OCD. She may have an uncontrollable urge to count every person entering and leaving the train, and to ensure an accurate count every few stops in case anyone is missed. If this is the case, it is tragic because she will never get very far in her book, and she will use a lot of space in her PDA recording meaningless numbers.

Undercover UTA worker: Perhaps UTA hires people to count the number of people that ride the train. This would be a very tedious job. It seems like it would be easier to just look at ticket sales. And, why would she be undercover?

Science Project/Thesis: People do crazy things for school projects. Maybe it is part of her education to discover how many people are using mass transit daily. That is stinky homework (and this is coming from someone who loves riding the train).

The humor:
I found myself watching her at every stop. I almost felt like helping her. Lets get the whole train involved, that way it will be easier. Everyone just watch one door. I also felt a little bit spied on, which was actually amusing. What would she say about me: "tired looking, unkempt female in unattractive scrubs, on at Gallivan, off at Murray Central". As I exited the train I turned to my friend and said "minus one", then I turned to the lady who had her PDA held at ready for me to exit. I wonder what she would do if I got out and then back in at one stop. Ah, the possibilities.

I love public transit.

10 things I sacrifice/risk/give up/etc to ride TRAX

If you know me, you know that I love public transportation. There is just something wonderful about people watching and saving gas at the same time. A friend at work suggested that I write a book about my experiences on TRAX, as I always have rather amusing anecdotes from my adventures. This list isn't really about stories, but about the reasons behind my chosen form of transportation. I heart TRAX.

10. Risk my car being stolen every day/night as the TRAX parking lots are not exactly safe. This is a risk I am willing to take. It will just give me one more reason to buy a newer car. And, then I wouldn't have to get a new windshield (mine currently has two very large cracks).

9. Risk my car being broken into. This really wouldn't be much of a problem. They could steal my EFY CDs, or my Murray High blanket. Yep, worth the risk.

8. $4/paycheck, $8/month, $96/year to pay for the TRAX pass. This really isn't much considering that it cost a couple dollars to ride it for one day. Nevertheless, it is something.

7. Risk sitting my someone who is stinky or foul, with little way of getting out the situation while saving face. Usually it is easy to spot the unwashed miscreants, but there is always a risk of them sitting by you once you have already found that perfect seat.

6. Risk unintentionally getting in the middle of shady drug deals. Lets just say one group of salesmen handled the transaction feet away from the door of the train.

5. Give up the excitement of Utah driving, and the risk of getting in an accident.

4. Give up biweekly trips to Costco for gas. Some would contest that this truly is a sacrifice. My bank account would suggest otherwise.

3. Give up the joy of searching for a parking space at 6:45 in the morning at PCMC, which is always a chore.

2. Sacrifice sleep. I have to leave for work about 20 minutes earlier than if I were driving all the way there. I used to make up for it by sleeping on the train, but you can only miss your stop so many times before you decide it is a bad idea to take naps on the train.

1. Risk giving up my single status. Unlike the rest of my life's arena, there seem to be plenty of interested and willing men who ride TRAX. Most recently, the "pirate man". He was wearing a patch over his left eye, complete with skull and cross bones on it. He walked right past my friends and commented to me: "Hey, Babe." He was a real keeper. I may have missed my opportunity for true love.