Cake for breakfast popsicles for dinner.

This is a snap shot of a nice man. Just living his life. Waiting for the Orange line, wondering what he will eat for dinner. Taco’s or maybe steak or baked beans. At least that’s what I was doing while I stood next to him, it was dinner time and here I was in Boston waiting for that angelic glow behind him to scoop me up and bring me to the commuter rail.


Let’s do a little reverse action shall we? Let me bring you back about ten hours from the steak and taco thought bubbles. It’s about seven fourteen in the morning and I haven't even eaten breakfast yet. I am boarding the commuter rail:


1) There is always that group of people that congregate at the tables. In the case of my morning commute it is a group of females. They throw their purses, water bottles, umbrellas and sometimes their bodies across all of the surrounding seats when you walk by. They will scowl at you if you even glimpse in their direction. These seats are reserved for an elite crew, or what I like to the call them, “The Mean Girls of the Commuter Rail.” If you have seen Mean Girls you know what I’m talking about, it’s that classic scenario of the lunch room where you put your head down and hurry past them, DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT. I have a plan. Next week I am going to ask to sit with them. Yes that’s right, I am going to try to pull a Lindsey Lohan and become a “Mean Girl of the Commuter Rail” because I want to know more.


  Why is the blonde obsessed with cheetah print? Umbrella, water bottle and rain boots. It looks like an actual cheetah is lying down across the two seats as her things stretch out across the blue thrones. And how in the world is steam coming off of the red head’s oatmeal? What is her secret, did they come out with hand held microwaves? Because I would invest in one. My plan:  I defiantly need to buy something with cheetah print, bring a bag of popcorn, dye my hair red and pretend I am Lindsey Lohan.


2) I get bored with the Mean Girls conversation about Kim Kardashian’s wedding. Who cares if she looked short next to her NBA basketball playing husband? As I put my headphones on, “You and I” is playing. I look around and squint at the poster above me. “Simplify your Schedule” and I shit you not this is what it has on it:

• A picture of a barefoot
•  Followed by a picture of the foot with a sock on it
• And then another picture with the sock foot in a boot.
• With the word “Vermont” in italics.

  Now I instantly am worried about Vermonters. COME ON. THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TO FILL YOUR DAY. You can’t just put your boot on and check off your Saturday- that is no way to live your life, plus you didn’t even consider booting up your foot on the other leg! I believe in you Vermonters, you can do so much more. Then I realize above the step by step instructions on how to put on a boot there is a picture of a women looking at the view on a mountain top. Okay, phew, at least this lady climbed a mountain on her Saturday. Good use of your time. I understand now. But for a minute, I was really concerned. Rock on Vermonters and thank you for the friendly reminder of how to put my socks and boots on.


3)   I hate when I hear Dunkin’ Donuts commercials. They are false advertising all the time. They always make it clear that America is running on Dunkin’, but guess what: they don’t even have Dunkin’ Donuts in Colorado. Trust me I lived two years without it and it was brutal, you have no idea. My mouth would literally salivate just thinking about Boston Kreme Donuts and a medium French Vanilla ice coffee, milk, three splendas (don’t judge me). One thing I have learned from being in and out of so many T stations is: Boston one hundred percent does run on Dunkin’s. Yes. This is a true fact. People will grow another arm if it means they will be able to buy their usual coffee on the way to the office. I saw a man this morning holding his Dunks cup in his mouth because his arms were full.


  One thing that is special about Dunkin’ Donuts located in the T stations is that ordering your morning order becomes a relay race:

• Ordering = try-outs. You need to know exactly what you want when you are asked, if you don’t you lose. Losing means you will get a bad attitude thrown at you and most likely not what you ordered. It will also make you extremely flustered and possibly you will develop pit stains. If you make it through the try-outs you have officially made the relay race team, congrats!
• You now need to have money in one hand ready to give to the person; this is your baton for the race. Do not drop that baton or you lose. If you have made it this far you are almost at the finish line, you are doing great.
• You now need to move over to your position (run, do not walk) and wait for the person to pass you the golden baton over the finish line (your delicious morning breakfast).

  Now, I am a rookie at this relay race:


  The woman in front of me orders “Hazelnut coffee -hot, extra cream, extra sugar & a blueberry muffin.” “NEXT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Oh my god. I am not prepared; I will never make the relay race team if I can’t even get through try-outs! What do I do?! I do what any desperate rookie at ANY try-out would do: I copy the person in front of me. “Yes, hazelnut coffee- hot, extra cream, extra sugar and a blueberry muffin.” The lady near the finish line does not even hear me say it (YEEESSSS!) As hazelnut breath leaves the finish line I grapevine over with a big grin, I have come so far I have grown so much, I am the world’s best relay racer in all the T stations! All I need to concentrate on now is the final hand off. The woman comes in my direction, the golden baton looks like the Golden Ticket in Willy Wonka and I feel just like Charlie. I smile and say thank you – she looks at me as if she were a Mean Girl of the Commuter Rail in her past life.


  This is a huge moment. It is the first time I have been a part of the relay race team and crossed the finish line. This must be exactly how the women at the world cup felt in 99’ I tell myself. I am glowing under the florescent lights and surrounded by all the other relay race winners as they proudly hold their cups. I lift mine up as if I were Brandi Chastain lifting up the World Cup.


  Then all of a sudden a rush of PURE panic waves throughout my body: wait a hot minute… I do not like cream. And everyone knows sugar is NOT as sweet as splenda. A blueberry muffin? Who am I? I sit down on the filthy bench closest to me and investigate this muffin. It looks delicious, crystals of sugar so big I can almost see my reflection.


  I take a bite. This is cake. Getting a muffin for breakfast is just like waking up and thinking: I need cake now but I can’t actually say that, so I will get cake but it will be called a muffin. This is genius. Whoever invented muffins, not only do I want to meet you, I want to marry you.


4)   I did not eat tacos, steak or baked beans for dinner. I had two popsicles: one was orange flavored and one was strawberry.