Hold the Door

She said "excuse me" while walking to her seat on the train in a way that suggested she was apologizing for her existence.  I took a break from my book and felt sad for her.  I peaked back to where she was sitting.  She chose that isolated pair of seats in the very front of the car where the driver would be if this were the lead car.  She had already begun taking her belongings out of plastic bags and spreading them out on the seats and floor mumbling to her self.  The voice of the CTA announced "This is Belmont".

"Is this Fullerton?"  She asked me this knowing full well that the disembodied head of the CTA had just announced  that we were at Belmont.

"No, That was Belmont.  Next will be Wellington, Diversey, and then Fullerton."

"Will you tell me when we get to Fullerton?"

I agreed.  At Diversey I noticed that all of her belongings were still spread out.  I wanted to give her time to get everything together so I told her Fullerton was next.  She acknowledged me, but didn't start preparing for her stop.

When she heard the announcement at Fullerton she freaked out.  "Oh my god, this is my stop.  Hold the door sir, hold the door.  HOLD THE DOOR, please sir, please."

I wasn't about to hold the door.  I hate when people hold the door.  She could easily get off at the next stop and take a north bound train.

But some unsuspecting passenger boarding the train heard her plea.  Not knowing that I gave her a full two minutes to prepare for her stop, he held the door.  She took her time.  He was holding the door for about 10 seconds while it was trying to close on him.   When she finally exited the train, she turned around and stood in the doorway, not letting it close.

"Did I get everything?"  She was talking to me.

"Yes, you got everything."  I knew this because I was watching her in disbelief the whole time.

"You didn't even look."

"Yes, I did."

"No, look.  I might have left something."  I twisted in my seat and looked where she had been.

"You have everything, let the doors close."

"You didn't look under the seats."  I physically stood up, walked to her seat, walked back and told her there was nothing there. She didn't seem convinced, but she let the doors go.  The train didn't move.  I knew after The Great Stroller Scare of 2009 that train conductors had to be extra careful about door issues.  We would have to wait while the conductor walked the length of the train checking for babies, puppies, or any possible object that would make a compelling "CTA Train Drags Widowed Civil Rights Leader 100 Yards" news headline.  All clear.  North and Clybourn is next.