Storms are strong. Lightning strikes. Electricity is out somewhere between ML King Station and Indian Creek. I have no idea where Indian Creek is but it sounds like something from generations ago and suddenly I’d rather go there than home. I’m stuck on the MARTA. It’s 5:48 PM and people are hot, wet, tired and hangry (a mix of hungry and angry). The conductor assures us that he has no control over our destiny. Most are not convinced. Eye rolling ensues, as does unhappiness. Mass people, mixed socio-economics, mixed everything–It becomes a sociological study. I pull my hair back; sweat beads beginning to form on my brow. I am entertained.
“I wish I had a cold beer,” says self. I’d like to sit back, but this station is standing room only. Standing room and be ready to run. Confusion occurs as it often does in large groups…do we load on buses? Do we wait for electricity to come back on for the MARTA to run? Go upstairs. Go downstairs. Train is back up? Electricity is!! I’m as close as I will ever be ready for the running of the bulls. Checking for exit signs. I watch the older people. They are wise. They sit and wait. Someone told me earlier this week that all he has is time. While I appeciate that; it must be nice. I have things to do. Mostly sleep. I am tired…tungry even.
So here we are. People are late for work. Late picking up kids from daycare. Late for dinner. Late for meetings. Late. But we are together. Somehow, in all of this misery that people want to believe they are victims of, we are united. United as victims or united as hangry, tungry people that all have something in common. We just want to get wherever we are going.
Don’t we all?