Assault

The verbal assault happened for nearly thirty minutes. There I was, "doing my part" and riding the Utah light rail system, when this kid boarded at the stop near the Library. He looked familiar at first, so I shot him a few looks to see if I knew him or not. But he kept shooting looks back. I thought maybe he was just in the same situation. It was awkward because I usually look around the train, watching people, and I couldn't. I had to stare out the window, all to avoid the piercing eyes of this kid.

He finally asked me something, and being that it was extremely cold, I had two hoods on over a pair of Skullcandy headphones. I hate that, I hate when people talk to me even though I have headphones on. I had no idea the horror about to begin. He said something, so I partially moved one of the headphone ears. Usually this is a move which suggests to the speaker that I'm not in for a long conversation, that I have only temporarily set my things aside for them. And it's not that this kid was being rude. In fact, it's quite the opposite.

So he says something, which I didn't hear, but pretend I did, and I worried I'd have to answer his question, until I saw that there was no question. He just kept going on. On, and on some more. The bits and pieces I heard were about how he liked Skullcandy headphones (personally, I believe them to be the best) but hated the earbuds they manufacture, because they were sharp, or something. Luckily for me, this kid was a very! animated! talker. Unluckily, he was a very animated talker.

I thought maybe he wouldn't be too bad. Like most people talking on public transportation, they say something until it becomes obvious you don't have anything to say, and then they go back to their own little world. I sat there and chuckled when he tried to be funny. Tried to be funny, by which I mean he really and honestly imitated the Carlos Mencia "retard voice." This was when I knew I had thrown myself into the belly of a very unforgiving beast.

He talked, and talked. He talked about the various digital accessories he'd had, his broken Nintendo DS, his broken iPod. I half-heartedly listened, in case he asked something, and when he did, I'd answer as shortly as possible. I sometimes would say things in reply, things like "Oh, my dad's like that, too." I was hoping he would take the hint, but he didn't. While searching around for other things to distract me, a woman across the row gave me a very understanding smile. She was saying "I'm sorry. I know how that feels." And I smiled back, silently thinking help.

When it came time for me to leave the train, I was displeased to find that this, too, was his stop. Oh no, thought I, what if he has to take the same bus as me, too? Still I had the headphones on and could only sort of hear the kid's words, but when he said he was taking a different bus, I heard it loud and clear.

The real jewel in the crown came right before he left. He said he went to the same high school as Diantha does now, a charter academy in the City known for its slapdash style of teaching. I asked him if he knew her, a Diantha Gourdin. He said yes, was she tall and had long hair? I said no, she was not that at all, she was... well last I saw her, a redhead, um, about my height and kind of chubby. He said oh yes, her, doesn't she go by Rage now? And I said no, that's not her either. Then he said, oh you mean, oh! yes! yes, I know her! she's nice, I call her Chameleon hair, last year she had a ton of hair colors. But Diantha didn't go to that school last year, and I didn't want any more of the back-and-forth who and what, so I just nodded again and let him get on his bus.

I should have just done that from the start.