Going to a commuter school for undergrad is fucked. I know I shouldn’t be complaining; I was the one that thought it’d be cool to have a “change of scenery” and study downtown instead of in the city outskirts where I grew up.
It got old real fast, though. After the first month or so, the novelty of the neon signs and designer outlets fades. Eventually all you’ll notice are the conflicting scents of fast food in one nostril and piss-stained sidewalks in the other. The days blur and become an endless cycle of speed-walking to class, taking notes while half-asleep, and then shuffling through the rest of the herd to your next boring lecture.
Then there’s all the people that you have to put up with. Strangers eye me down for no reason. I instinctually double-check my pockets after I brush past someone. Mindless idiots coalesce right in the middle of the congested train platform to make small talk and obstruct others. I don’t even know why my parents chose to immigrate here in all honesty. The whole city is fucked, and I couldn’t be less proud to develop my career in this shithole.
Yesterday would’ve been just as crappily mundane as my usual routine if not for what happened at Huntington Station. It was around 11 PM and I was on Line 1. By 10 PM most people have cleared out of the transit system and there’s just a few stragglers who work or study late, like me. It was just me and a prim-looking older guy in a navy suit, sitting at opposite ends of the car. He had some expensive-looking studio headphones on and was just vibing to his music.
The train began slowing to a halt as we transitioned from a dark tunnel to a soft yellow platform.
ARRIVING AT HUNTINGTON STATION. EXIT DOORS RIGHT.
I was just about to nod off to sleep when, through the closing gap in my eyelids, I saw the man at the end of the car snap his head towards the seat window with eyes fully widened. He was frozen in astonishment at whatever he was looking at. I maintained my focus, watching as his face gradually turned red before he burst into tears.
The last time I saw a grown man cry was never. So this was quite a shock for me. It didn’t help that the man not only seemed to be crying, but bawling. He was incredibly anxious and upset. He kept pulling the collar of his blazer over his face and tucking his chin into it, as if trying to hide himself. When the speakers chimed and the doors opened, the man jumped up and stumbled through the exit, wiping his snot and tears in his blazer while screaming “Why?!”
The sound of his crying faded off into the distance while the conductor announced that we’d be holding at Huntington for a crew change. I was left puzzled but amused at the antics that had preceded. “What a pussy,” I thought to myself. “Who just breaks down like that in public? The fuck do you have to complain about, Mr. Wall Street?”
The smirk that had just formed from my sentiments quickly faded as I watched myself walk into the car through the same doors the bawling man exited through. Identical hair, face, build, and clothes. This person sat down curtly in the same seat the crying yuppie guy was in. He looked up immediately after sitting down, staring me dead in the eyes. No facial expression whatsoever.
For a while, I locked eyes with my doppelganger in an attempt to mislead him and show him that I wasn’t afraid. But I was. It was just me in this car, staring back at myself after a grown man just fled the car in hysteria. Eventually I couldn’t hold my gaze and just decided to check my phone awkwardly.
I looked back up to find my clone sitting several seats closer than he was before. He initiated the same cold stare, but this time with a frown of concern. This was more than enough for my paranoid ass. I got up and moved back further towards the bench seats outside the conductor’s quarters.
When I turned around to sit down the motherfucker was right in front of me, down on his knees and inches away from my face. He was staring at me with bloodshot eyes. At this point, he was close enough that I could feel an abnormal amount of heat radiating from his body. He stank like no tomorrow.
My fight or flight response buffered as I stared helplessly. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements, out of fear that this thing might make a move. After all, it just teleported across the goddamn car to my face. It felt like an eternity of goosebump- and sweat-riddled staring before, just like that, the thing went limp and collapsed.
Its cold, bloodshot eyes rolled slowly to meet mine. “Thy will shall be done.”, it choked out before disintegrating into dust.
I’m hungover like fuck from all the Black Label I downed after I got home last night. I’m still coming to terms with what happened. I’ve got a pretty packed schedule today, and I’ll be on campus for several hours later in the afternoon. If any other strange shit happens I’ll post it here because fuck if I know how to deal with this shit. Any advice would be appreciated.