I had settled myself into a window seat on the Amtrak Downeaster, ready to head back to Maine from Boston. I lowered the tray from the back of the seat in front of me and placed my cup of iced tea on it.
The train had arrived at North Station early, so it would be a while until we departed. Three minutes before the train was set to leave, a young woman stomped down the aisle and flung herself into the empty seat next to me. Then she shouted at a young man who was still coming down the aisle, “Aren’t you going to give me my stuff?”
Oh, boy. This didn’t look good. I tried to withhold judgment, but then she flipped down the tray in front of her, with a clatter, and banged her head down on it.
I slowly moved away, but I didn’t have far to go. I could only hope she was going to get off at one of the first stops.
There is an unwritten social contract that allows us to function in groups in public areas. We try to respect others’ personal space and keep our voices at reasonable levels. It’s not necessary to be friendly, just to be civil.
When the contract is broken, my alarm bells ring.
I feel like anything could happen, and I don’t like that uncertainty.
Granted, I was on a train, surrounded by people and staffed by conductors who presumably are trained to deal with difficult situations. The woman now seemed more despondent than angry. She seemed to be upset with her companion (now sitting at the other end of the car), and I had no reason to believe she would target her emotions at me.
Still, it only takes a second for one person to strike another, and the damage is done.
OK, an unlikely scenario. I calmed myself down. Maybe the worst of it would be drama for an hour. As the train emptied out, I could find another seat.
As it turned out, my seat mate pulled herself together and starting playing with her phone. When she asked a conductor if the cafe car sold wine, I stiffened up once again. But she asked me to “watch her stuff” while she went to get some, which I agreed to do, and thanked me when she returned, so all was well. And she got a sandwich as well as the wine, which was a good idea.
I thought it was ironic that I had been in Boston all day and only encountered one negative situation. I’d traveled on the T and crossed a very crowded Common. The city was hopping that day, but I only witnessed one man, at the edge of the farmers’ market at Copley Square, screaming invectives and obscenities at the world.
Usually, when I am returning home on the train, I am reflecting on my amazement that my trip has gone smoothly (although derailment is always a possibility).
Just the next day, though, I was rattled again. I’d picked up some groceries at my neighborhood market, and was walking home. I was in the middle of the parking lot when I heard loud voices coming from the sidewalk along the street in front of me.
As I got nearer, I could see that a man and woman were arguing. He was gesticulating at her in a menacing way. I wondered if I would need to call the police. I didn’t have my phone with me, but if they were still at it by the time I got home, I would. I’d be able to see them from a front window.
However, the woman turned on her heel and marched down the street. The man was still shouting at her. Then he saw me. “Ma’am?” he said.
I ignored him.
“Ma’am?”
I had to stop at the curb before I crossed the street, so now I had to say something. “I have to get going,” I said and scurried off.
He then began screaming, “Tiffany! Tiffany! Tiffany!” It was reminiscent of Marlon Brando yelling “Stella!” in “A Streetcar Named Desire.” The woman, I was glad to see, just kept walking and did not turn around.
I wonder what this guy wanted to say to me. Was he going to ask me to go after Tiffany? Did he just want to complain? As in, “Can you believe she’s walking off on me?”
To which I would have had to reply, “Yes. Yes, I can.”
And that wouldn’t have ended well.
It’s always better not to react to people who are out of control. I had to learn, when I was an educator new to the field, how to deal with angry students. It’s so easy to get into a tit-for-tat situation. It seems immature, but adults do it all the time. Now my mantra is “don’t engage.”
This man frightened me, but I kept my cool. It helped that my house was nearby and my husband and two dogs were at home.
As I turned onto my own sidewalk, I watched Tiffany disappear from sight. I hope she kept walking right out of that angry man’s life.
A few days have passed and I haven’t found myself in the middle of anyone else’s angry outbursts. Fingers crossed!
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