IT HAPPENED - (MAKING OUT WITH) STRANGERS ON A TRAIN

Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to make out with a stranger on a cross country train? You imagine the charming conductor, spotting two fresh-faced young single adults, seats them next to each other with a wink of his eye. The strangers share a drink, perhaps a tasteful glass of bourbon, and exchange pleasantries. By the time the sun sets behind the distant, majestic mountain range, the two people's lips are locked against one another and later they fall into a tender sleep, slumped against each other while the rain rumbles on. The next morning, the new lovers awake, dine on orange juice and croissants, and close out their ride with the excitement of a new romance on the horizon. Well, I have made out with a stranger on the train, but it involved a lot less magic and way more whiskey and blood.

OK, first exchange "train" for "Amtrak" which is like an 8,000-foot metal turd on a track. Exchange "charming conductor" for "creepy lecherous Amtrak employee"  and "fresh-faced and young" for "hung-over and haggard" and "perhaps a tasteful glass bourbon" to "a liter of cheap whiskey." Then exchange "pleasantries" for "blacked-out ramblings" and "majestic mountain range" for the "endless expanse of shitty towns and chicken coops." Now add in the blood.
I'd just spent a week holed up in a dark, smoky Chicago apartment and was headed back to the asshole of New York. Sleep deprived and already half in the can, I humored the Amtrak employee and allowed him to seat me next to the only man under 40 on the train. Knowing I was in for a long night, I broke out the bottle and we drank it as fast as we could. I must have had a lot of other things on my mind because I failed to notice the incredibly obvious warning signs like two lip rings and (double) knuckle tattoos. By the time the bottle was empty, we were making out. It was actually pretty good, but since we weren't 13 and I wasn't about to fuck him in the bathroom, after 20 minutes of making out I was like "booooring" and I stumbled off to an empty seat and passed out.
I woke up the next morning, groggy and still a little drunk. Thinking I'd successfully ditched him and could spend the rest of the ride berating myself in peace, I was dismayed when he suddenly appeared and sat down next to me. I was equally appalled to see that, in the harsh light of morning, he looked about 18. He left briefly for the dining cart and returned with a Budweiser and a bag of peanuts, which he tossed into my lap, saying, "Here, I got you a sack of nuts." He then proceeded to take out his notebook and show me his song lyrics that included some gems like "It's been so long/ down in this hole/ gotta get out/ gotta save my soul," and "We rage/ we age/ we're stuck in a bird cage." He flipped through pages and pages of terrible art and old English script of his tag name "Pi (the symbol) Rat," and said "Get it, get it? PI-rat? Aaarg." He then flipped to two open pages in his notebook of writing done in blood. "I cut myself while, um, washing dishes," he explained. "It was pretty bad but writing with blood looks awesome." The blood read "Live 4 the blood you shed. [heart] Darkside." I wanted to die. Then he wrote "πRat" on my shoe, wrote me a poem, and got off somewhere in Philadelphia. I've been bathing in bleach ever since. Anyways, the moral of the story is: Don't eat the microwave pizzas on Amtrak. They taste like barf.

PENELOPE BONER

Comments

[Mary]

This is hilarious! It sounds like something that'd happen to me!

if you're riding amtrak and don't notice the guy you're about to make out with fashioned fucking industrial fasteners into rings, chances are you're no looker/catch either.

[Mr. Children]

She's totally smitten, she loves my kisses and my poetry.

Π RAT

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA oh god

[aims]

look slike ozzy osbourne's hands

[well]

Well, when you're gushing blood from a dishwashing accident and trying to write something before the clotting kicks in, inspiration can be a little lacking.

[JEB]

A good story is worth its weight in gold.

This one was well worth the bleaching.

[jimbob]

sounds like a whore, but a rubbish one, you've already slid across the line of respectability, so you may aswell go the whole way in the toilet, at least make it worth your while !!!

hey fuck you lady. you wanted to fuck me but i didnt let you. you didnt deserve those nuts

bitch

piRAT

[floralvomit]

..
HAHAHAHAHAHA..

...creepy

[DelBoogs]

Could be a worse scenario, imagine MD 20/20,a handful of klonopin, and a Greyhound from Salt Lake to Omaha. Now imagine the next day stranger regret involving hoping you dont get quarantined for Tubercolosis.

[greyhound]

It could be a lot worse. Take Amtrak and replace it with greyhound bus, take chicken coops and replace it with canadian prairies, leave the blood in, but replace make out with guy severing your head and swinging it over his head. Suddenly microwave pizzas sound pretty good.

[tao]

haha

[sigh]

Wow, really not cool leaving in identifying information about the guy. I'm sure anyone who knows him would recognize this. That's fucked up and mean of you.

[Maggie]

sigh says:
"...That's fucked up and mean of you."

haha, no it isn't! it's fucking hilarious! Emo dudes in this day and age know that they're going to be ridiculed (they live for that shit); plus, it's not like Ms. Boner is giving out his full name and address, for fuck's sake.

and shit, this sounds damn near like something I'd end up doing...and I so happen to have a cross-country greyhound trip coming up next week..I'll make sure to avoid any knuckle-tat'd bloodwriter boys.

This is one of the most amazing pieces of writing I've seen in ages. bravo!

Awesomeeeeeeeeeeee

[Theresa]

he has wierd pinkies. They look like dicks with fingernails.

[Junior]

Funny as fuck! : )

[Billfish]

Where do we send the wedding gifts?

[jp]

I had a make-out like that on a cross-country Amtrak trip, but it didn't involve alcohol and we actually ended up being friends afterwards.
That writing in blood stuff is pretty creepy, though.