I think my conductor hit on me this morning.
Really…it was completely weird and uncharictersitic of him. Well, not that I’m in a position to know what is and what is not uncharicteristic of my conductor since my relationship with him has a depth not dissimilar to a muffin-top (of the actual muffin variety, not the dreaded clothing-induced “muffin-top“). Our relationship is thus:
Me: “Good morning!” I say brightly. Because everyone needs to hear something brightly at 7 AM.
Him: “Good morning! How are you today?”
Me: “Very well, thank-you” as I show him my pass.
Him: “Wonderful, have a nice day!”
Me: “Thank-you, you as well.”
And that’s that.
Now, occasionally this exchange is slightly different because as the train pulls into the station, he will sometimes get off and I’ll run into him on the platform and we will exchange our pleasantries as I get on the train. Simple, right? And that just the routine we’ve been having for the last several months.
(I go out of my way to be friendly to him because I can only imagine that he has a difficult job. He not only checks my ticket at 7 AM which means he has probably been at work for at least an hour already, but he is also the person that checks my tickets when I am coming home at 5 PM, which means he has had a LONG day. It’s likely that they have a much longer break midday than I do, but still, that’s a long time to be away from your home. And not only is he there for all that time pacing back and forth along the cramped aisles of a moving train, but he’s always friendly to everyone. So I’m always friendly back.)
But today, things took a suprising turn. As I was getting on the train this morning, we had our usual conversation and then he said, “by the way, I really like your jacket.” This is not in anyway unusual because I am in possession of what must be one of the most fabulous, magical jackets in the history of the world. People LOVE this jacket. I am not exaggerating when I say that complete strangers have stopped me on the street to compliment this jacket, multiple times. And remember that I live in Boston, and people on the street here are not friendly. Most of these people wouldn’t alter their path to avoid stepping on an old lady who fell on the sidewalk, much less strop a stranger to give her a compliment. It’s a good jacket, is what I’m saying.
So he says, “By the way, I really like your jacket. It looks good on you.” And then, y’all, then he winked at me.
Weird. And yucky. And (WICKED) awkward.
And now I’m nervous about coming home on the train tonight because he went and awkwardized our casual, friendly exchanges. And I can’t tell, was that a flirtatious wink? Would my 40 year old conductor be trying to flirt with me? Or was it just a friendly, playful wink? But still, does he think he knows me well enough to be giving me playful winks? I think regardless, it has offended my southern sensibilities. Because I am a delicate and sensitive flower. Ahem.
BUT IT WAS WEIRD, RIGHT? Wouldn’t that weird you out?