I was lucky since the Red Line train approached the station just as I walked down the stairs. I hopped into the nearest door and looked around to find a place to sit. The open spot seemed to be almost too narrow for me to fit, but in the car full of Cubs fans, I was not going to miss this opportunity.
I apologetically squeezed myself in, and an older gentleman on my left assured me that he was not that big and that I was fine.
In a couple of minutes, looking at me browsing my phone screen, he asked me what I was doing for a job. I replied, and since he looked puzzled, I explained to him, alluding to the search for products on Amazon. He said it was cool, and he was “just a retired forklift driver.” And then he told me that he wanted to start driving a semi because it’s a better pay, and we talked about that, and he mentioned that he worked for Pepsi, and I told him that I worked for Pepsi in the past and that I did this warehouse automation. I still remembered all technology, and he nodded approvingly: I see that you know what you are talking about! Then he said that he was originally from Michigan, and I said I have a friend there whom I visit, and we talked about what we like in Michigan.
We talked all the way to Wilson, discussing Cubs and Sox fans and the Red Line reconstruction and children and grandchildren, and then we shook hands, and he disembarked, waving me goodbye.
Thank you so much, Mister Retied Forklift Driver, for not asking where my accent was from!
Hettie's Reflections 