A day in the life

Every morning I hear the familiar sound of my alarm clock. It's way before the crack of dawn as I crack open one eye hoping that for once that know it all tone had lied. Each day the know it all is proven correct. I peel my other eye open and take a deep breath quietly slipping out of bed. I grab hold of my towel and phone. The first step is a bit of a labor as the mechanics of walking seem to be a learning experience every morning. As I wind up the stairs, my senses come back online and I am reminded that my knee still hasn't fully healed. It's my fault.

The next alarm lets me know that I need to get out of the shower; I don't argue this time. The stairs are more forgiving on the way down but now i am chilled to the core. Any survival guide will tell you that it is your interest to dry off asap to reduce the risk of hypothermia. The jungle of 1580 is no different. Shoes almost on, I hear the third alarm. If I don't leave in five minutes I have to run.

It's still quite dark outside; most are still deep in slumber. A few cars pass by as I make my way to the train station. I see even fewer people on the streets. As I round the last corner to the train station the fourth tone goes off in the background, completely drowned by the music blasting through my eardrums. I eventually take notice of the subtle vibration and turn off the alarm.
With my free paper in had I make my way to the end of the platform. It's an above ground station and it always seems that a particularly cold wind is blowing at this time of the morning.

It starts of as a distant spark and soon becomes a flicker in the distance. Those people who had wisely kept themselves sheltered from the cold start to come onto the platform. Not too long after, the headlights of the train become apparent and so do the faces of the usual suspects. I haven't had occasion to say a word to any of them but we all recognize each other. There will be a nod here or there of acknowledgment as everyone heads to the de facto assigned seating.

People trickle in at the local stops. After the first express stop it's every person for themselves as the seats are now few and far between. There is also more chatter at this time; not that I can hear a word over the music I am listening to. I see smiles on some people's faces as they engage in conversations with their train buddies. Others are content to get out the last ounce of sleep cozied up between two other people they barely know but by know are completely comfortable with.

Other people are in their own world much like I am; body present but mind elsewhere. A regular dressed in her blue uniform does her version of the hip-hop shuffle. Her head bobs to the beat and her feet bring her back and forth as if there isn't another soul in the car. By this time my eyes are also closed; I am in a form of deep meditation. Barely aware of the rumblings of the train as it journeys across the bridge.

Every morning I hear the familiar sound of my alarm clock. I crack open one eye hoping that for once that know it all tone had lied. She's still dancing, this is not a dream.