my baby takes the morning train.
Mar. 27th, 2002 04:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raybearBetween staring at computer screens and tiny numbers on the accounting forms, I've developed a mild headache. The kind that make me sleepy. I can doze on the train if I'm lucky to get a seat, which I usually am since I board the last car.
Sleeping on the train is an art form that few have taken the time to master, except for those who spend hours and hours on the trains for the lack of a more comfortable shelter. There's a certain way to balance yourself, to keep from dropping over to your neighbor's shoulder, or worse, jerking backwards and hitting your head on the window or bar. I've done all of these things. I don't do them much anymore. Every once in awhile I'll hit my head when it tips backwards, but that's usually a sign that I'm sleeping too deeply and should be woken up anyway.
The key is to master a light doze. Enough to tune out the passing stations and mumbing commuters and submerge myself in daydream thoughts that start to shape themselves, a cross between REM dreams and drug-induced short-term hallucinations, but without any scariness or weight. But in this state one must not indulge for too long because you'll really fall asleep and go right past your desired stop. It's disorienting enough to wake up on the train and none of the people around you were there when you closed your eyes. It's worse to look out the window and see nothing immediately familiar.
When I lived way north of the city, my commute was about 45 minutes. The perfect length for a deeper sleep, where I could completely tune out during the express phase, and then be lulled back to the waking world when we crossed the city border and all the purple line riders departed.
Nowadays my commute is so short, I get extremely antsy. For some reason, 20 minutes seems less tolerable than 50 minutes. It's not quite long enough to doze, not long enough to really get into a book. I mostly resort to headphones, and close my eyes and relax while under the tunnels. Spring is arriving, so in the evenings, emerging from the tunnels bring sunlight, which reminds me that my stop is next. The hub of three major train lines and the source of frustrating attempts to move down the platform. But once I go through the revolving door, I know I only have a half a block before home, and no grumpy commuter, campaigning politician, or restaurant flyer soliciter can phase me.
Why yes, yes, I do enjoy 5 pm.
Sleeping on the train is an art form that few have taken the time to master, except for those who spend hours and hours on the trains for the lack of a more comfortable shelter. There's a certain way to balance yourself, to keep from dropping over to your neighbor's shoulder, or worse, jerking backwards and hitting your head on the window or bar. I've done all of these things. I don't do them much anymore. Every once in awhile I'll hit my head when it tips backwards, but that's usually a sign that I'm sleeping too deeply and should be woken up anyway.
The key is to master a light doze. Enough to tune out the passing stations and mumbing commuters and submerge myself in daydream thoughts that start to shape themselves, a cross between REM dreams and drug-induced short-term hallucinations, but without any scariness or weight. But in this state one must not indulge for too long because you'll really fall asleep and go right past your desired stop. It's disorienting enough to wake up on the train and none of the people around you were there when you closed your eyes. It's worse to look out the window and see nothing immediately familiar.
When I lived way north of the city, my commute was about 45 minutes. The perfect length for a deeper sleep, where I could completely tune out during the express phase, and then be lulled back to the waking world when we crossed the city border and all the purple line riders departed.
Nowadays my commute is so short, I get extremely antsy. For some reason, 20 minutes seems less tolerable than 50 minutes. It's not quite long enough to doze, not long enough to really get into a book. I mostly resort to headphones, and close my eyes and relax while under the tunnels. Spring is arriving, so in the evenings, emerging from the tunnels bring sunlight, which reminds me that my stop is next. The hub of three major train lines and the source of frustrating attempts to move down the platform. But once I go through the revolving door, I know I only have a half a block before home, and no grumpy commuter, campaigning politician, or restaurant flyer soliciter can phase me.
Why yes, yes, I do enjoy 5 pm.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
oops
Date: 2002-03-27 04:14 pm (UTC)Re: oops
Date: 2002-03-27 04:18 pm (UTC)Re: oops
Date: 2002-03-27 09:18 pm (UTC)