Oh god dammit. It's her again, You think as you try not to look at the people flooding in the now-crowded subway. When working your 9-5 job in a crowded city, you're bound to at least recognize the people on your daily commute to the business district. The same small, fat, sweaty man comes in at the McDaughtrey stop from the Gold Train. The blind woman gets off the Black Train and comes to the Green Train from the Center Station. Every single day the same people take the same spot and do the same activities. You've noticed a small percentage of the people on the subway are glued to their phones. Others, like you, read. The woman across from you always knits.
This particular girl comes in from the Blue Train and leaves from the Nichols stop. She takes the seat behind you, as usual, and neatly folds her messenger back onto her lap. You can hear her slightly tap the back of your seat as she crosses her ankles together. You try not to look backwards as she adjusts her pencil skirt, fluffs her dark hair, and takes out her headphones. Here we go, you think as she slips in her earbuds.
The slender woman taps her feet as "Photograph" by Nickelback blasts from her headphones. After 3 awful minutes of gravely rasps, you can barely make out the lyrics to Deep Blue Something's "Breakfast at Tiffany's." This woman has done the seemingly impossible: create the worst playlist on Earth and listen to it at deafening volumes seemingly just to annoy you. Her music seems to get worse with every passing day. After the second verse of Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," you just can't take it anymore.
You whip around in your seat and tap on the back of your seat to get her attention. She looks up from fiddling with her iPod and slowly takes out her headphones. "Oh, I'm Sorry. Was My Music Too Loud?" she asks in a small voice.
She surprises you with her softness. After so many angry thoughts and bad associations, she's become the epitome of shitty rock music. Such a gentle smile caught you off guard.
"Oh...No. I mean, yes? Yes, your music is too loud. But that's not why I...nevermind. I just wanted to..." You stumble to find the right words. "Your music is awful. I mean just the worst music I've ever heard. Nickelback? KC and the Sunshine Band? You listened to 'Get It Started' by the Black Eyed Peas three times in a row last week. Jesus Christ, did you purposely make a mix of the worst songs on Earth and play it only around me? This has to be some kind of joke."
The dark-haired girl turned bright red. "...Well, I Got Your Attention, Didn't I?"
"You...What?" The girl smiles shyly and glances at her feet. "What do you mean 'I've got your attention'? Did you actually do this just to annoy me?" You've practiced this confrontation every day walking away from the subway and in the shower. This is not how it is supposed to go.
"I Was Too Nervous To Start A Conversation. But Now That You've Started The Conversation, Want To Talk About It Over Coffee Sometime?" She fiddles with her skirt as you try to construct even a response to this question.
You grab onto your seat as the subway lurches to a halt. A voice announcing Hussie station, your stop, comes on the intercom.
You slowly stand up and make your way to the sliding doors. "I'll see you at 8. Hartley's?" you ask between the rushes of people.
"That Sounds Lovely."