En route
I saw my dream girl on the metro. It was six weeks ago, a Wednesday, I remember because it was right after the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival long weekend.
Every day, I take Line 11 metro to work, from Chiwan station to Railway Park station. On the way, the train stops at Liwan station, and that’s where she got on the train that day, and sat across from me.
She wore a red mask covered in little white daisies, so I couldn’t see her face, but her eyes were shinning. The ride from Liwan station to Railway Park station took two minutes, which I savored, second by second. She wore a casual short white cotton dress with black knee-high boots, carried a red Longchamp shoulder bag, and held a Kindle in her hand. She looked up, our eyes locked, and I felt something in my heart. It was as if her gaze physically touched my soul. I smiled under my mask, she lowered her eyes, and the train stopped at Railway Park station. I got off, but she stayed on.
For the next two days, I didn’t see her, and then it was the weekend, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wondered if she also thought about me, or was I the only loser who was obsessed with a random stranger I had seen once. In the past, en route to work, or on my way to the gym, there had been moments when people caught my attention, but never have I ever experienced such intense feelings before. I wondered if I would ever see her again.
The following Monday, she got on the train at Liwan station, but she sat in the compartment next to mine. Go talk to her, the thought rushed into my head, but by the time I gathered the confidence, the train arrived at the Railway Park station, and I got off. Stop being a pussy, I said to myself.
The next day, I remembered I had only two minutes to make something happen, so I stood by the door. The train stopped at Liwan station, the doors opened, and she walked in.
She wore a lavender mask covered in beige water lilies, it was a perfect contrast to her brown Marc Jacobs tote bag and her long pink linen dress. Our eyes locked, she scanned the two empty seats, looked back at me, and held the metallic bar. She remembers me, I thought, what do I do now? I mused over complimenting her on her chic style, but I knew that I would sound like any other guy, so instead I thought about making fun of her mask to get her attention, but I also wanted our first interaction to be genuine, organic, something we could remember for the rest of our lives, so I kept thinking about the perfect line.
She looked at me again, I let go of the metallic bar, and the train arrived at Railway Park station. She walked towards the empty seat and sat down, the doors opened and more people walked in. You lost the chance, I told myself and walked out.
I didn’t see her on Wednesday, I should definitely ask her out tomorrow, I thought.
Thursday was the last day before the start of the 7-day Golden Week holiday. I thought, if she didn’t have any other plans, we could spend the holiday together. I know I’m a hopeless romantic, but what can I do, I grew up reading Sweet Valley High novels (don’t even know why I’m admitting to that.)
On Thursday, I wore my new gray denim jeans with a turquoise polo and a navy blue blazer. I carried my antique cognac leather bag. I looked sharp. It was then or never.
The train stopped at Liwan station. But she didn’t get on. I looked around, but she was no where to be found. I took a step out onto the platform and scanned the escalators coming down. No sign of her, nada. I lowered my shoulders and turned around, but the signals beeped and the train doors shut.
Great, I thought, now I’m gonna be late for work.
After six minutes, the next train arrived, and I got on. I held the metallic bar and checked my watch. The signals beeped, I looked out the door, and there she was, running at the speed of light. I stepped forward and extended my arm in her direction, she grabbed it and jumped on the train.
“Hi, I’m Alex,” I said.
She looked into my eyes, “what took you so long,” she squeezed my hand, “dumbass,” she said.
The train arrived at Railway Park station, the doors opened, the signals beeped, and the doors shut.
Sonder: An Afterthought
I love taking trains, I always have, since I was a child. The first time my parents and I missed our train during our summer holidays, when I was five years old, I cried for a few hours. I love taking trains for many reasons, some of which I don’t even know. What I do know is that I love people watching. I always wonder what these people do, where they live, what they love, who they love, what their dreams are made of, what they value most in life. I love taking trains because they remind me of my childhood, my first travels, my first wonders.
Note: The title of this afterthought is inspired by my dear friend Alina Shanin. While working on this blog post, I made an art piece related to this idea and posted on my Instagram. Alina commented: “Sonder. I love it.” So, I looked it up:
Sonder — noun. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness — an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk. (via the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)
Dear Readers, I have a question for you:
Do you experience sonder in your daily life? How often? And where does it usually happen for you?
I would love to read about your experiences.
