commuter diaries: velcro for grownups

Due to the location of my internship, I now commute to Salt Lake City via public transportation. And with public transportation comes the smelly seatmate, the man with no sense of boundaries, the people who've lived extraordinary lives, and everyone inbetween. These are their stories.


The Trax Blue Line was rather crowded when I boarded on my way home from work. I sat in an empty seat surrounded by a cluster of people, who, due to the mixture of forward facing and sideways facing seats, formed a neat little circle. 

As the train lurched forward, I noticed the man closest to me staring quite fixedly at my legs. I was both uncomfortable and confused; uncomfortable because a complete stranger was staring pointedly at my legs and confused because I was wearing a flowy calf length skirt, so there wasn't much to see anyway. Also, my legs are so pale they're practically translucent. So there's that.

After a few more moments of me uncomfortably trying to both shift my skirt so it covered as much skin as possible and pretending that I didn't notice the man's stare, he spoke. "I gotta question: How's them stay on?"

I looked up from my phone, completely baffled and having no idea whatsoever what he was talking about. A few awkward seconds passed before I realized he was pointing at my shoes: a pair of oxfords that had what appeared to be laces.

"Them don't tie," the man said. "An' so I was wonderin', how's them stay on if them don't tie?"

Finally I understood. "Oh," I said, "they're not really laces. They're elastic." I reached down and tweaked one of the "laces" to demonstrate their springiness.

"Oh," he murmured thoughtfully. "Elastic."

"Yeah...it's like velcro for grownups."

The man guffawed. "Velcro for grownups!" He repeated. "I like that. It's funny." He paused for another moment and then pointed to the shoes of the young business man opposite him. "His tie!" The business man, too, was wearing oxfords, but his had honest to goodness shoe laces and were tied neatly.

The business man looked at his shoes. "Yeah, mine do tie," he agreed, shooting an amused grin my way.

Shoe Guy babbled on, "So because his tied and all, I was lookin' at your shoes and thinkin', how's them stay on if them don't tie?" He chuckled to himself as if this were the most entertaining conversation he'd ever had.

"Well, they stay on just fine," I assured him. "And they're quite comfortable."

"They look very sophisticated," the business man said with a laugh. "Even if they don't tie."

I thanked him for the compliment and settled back into my seat, murmuring my consent as the Shoe Guy began a new rampage about how dangerous it is for women to walk in stilettos.

endings & beginnings & ramblings

Hey guys. You're now reading the blog of an official, for real, actual college grad. I've been kind of hovering in limbo for the past two months, but limbo time is over, my friends. I'm in real life now. 

On Friday, I said goodbye to my coworkers and my BYUtv job. I knew it was going to be hard for me emotionally, but I didn't expect the huge wave of oh-my-lanta-what-is-happening-my-whole-life-is-a-dark-hazy-mist that overcame me as I (tearfully) left the building for my last time. It was just sad. I love that job. I love my coworkers. I love the weird inside jokes and sayings that induce crazy fits of laughter while onlookers debate as to whether they should call a psychiatrist for us. It was the perfect student job and it was the perfect job to make me fall even more in love with editing.

So I guess I should have realized that saying goodbye would be so hard. 

Luckily, I had something amazing around the corner. I've been excited for my new internship for months now, but during the last couple of weeks, a lot of fear and trepidation crept in and almost squashed all the excitement out of me. I considered every single terrible thing that could happen in relation to the job (most of them involving public transportation. #travelanxiety) and convinced myself that I was going to be a huge disappointment and that they'd want to get rid of me pronto. 

Well, after one day, I can safely say that (so far) none of my awful situations have come to pass. And thus far they seem pretty happy to have an intern, as the workload is pretty monumental right now. I guess I'll give them some time to decide if they are happy that the intern is me.

On my end, things are pretty peachy. I spent the majority of my day reading a dang good historical fiction novel and inputting edits for said novel. AND I GOT PAID FOR IT. I almost didn't want to go home, but then my stomach reminded me that I was hungry, and I remembered that the book would still be waiting for me to comb through it in the morning. So I left. 

And public transportation isn't half bad, I've found. I'm pretty much a master at navigating Salt Lake City via Trax now. And by that, I mean that I can get from the FrontRunner station to work and back. Baby steps, my friends. Baby steps. 

I'm not exactly an outgoing person, but after one day, I've already realized that commuting with a bunch of strangers introduces you to some goshdarn cool people. My morning FrontRunner ride up to Salt Lake taught me that a majority of folks traveling north from Utah County teeter precariously on the edge of spiffily well-dressed and hipster. And these people (spifsters?) come in all ages. 

On the way home, a rather attractive guy about my age struck up a conversation with me, and I was like "SCORE!" Mostly because many of my friends have decided that I'm going to meet the man of my dreams on my commute, and I let that go to my head. Our conversation was going swimmingly until about 15 minutes into it when he dropped the F Word. NO NOT THAT ONE. Get your mind out of the gutter, people. Fiancee. He mentioned his fiancee. 

I should have known it was too good to be true. But in all actuality, he was a pretty swell guy, and I appreciated the fact that he wasn't one of those guys who won't even have a commuter conversation with somebody because she happens to be a girl approximately his age. And he was a really cool person, and I truly enjoyed chatting with him as our train sped south. (Also he told me how he proposed, and it was so dang cute, and I'm just a sucker for a good proposal story)

But of all the people I met today—and between a new job, the sister missionaries at Temple Square, and public transportation, there were quite a few—my favorite was the elderly UTA employee who was on the FrontRunner on my way home. He was an Irish-born, German raised man who speaks English as a third language, although you'd never guess that. When he spoke, he sounded mostly German, but there was a curious lilt in his voice that I've never heard in the voice of a German before. 

After World War II, he and his family were trapped under Communist rule in East Berlin, which was when he learned Russian (Russian being his second language after German). His family had converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just before the war, and after the war was over, the Church did its best to take care of the members suffering in East Germany. His father was the branch president, so he was on the receiving end of the clothes and food and other supplies the Church sent to the area. In the words of my Irish-German friend, "the Commies didn't like that." The local authorities got more and more frustrated with the influx of goods sent to the Mormons and repeatedly threatened to through his father in jail. When the threats got more serious and dangerous, the family made a run for it. The escaped safely into West Germany, where they tried to start a new life. 

Soon, though, the missionaries who'd introduced the family to the gospel reconnected with them and urged them to move to America. Once again, they uprooted their lives and moved to the United States. I've never heard somebody express such sincere gratitude for the freedoms that Americans enjoy before. He acknowledged that the country has its problems, as all countries do, but that having been on the other side and having lived so many years in fear and oppression and terrible conditions, he is grateful for the freedom and peace he's enjoyed since moving to the United States.

"Every night," he told me, "I thank Heavenly Father for a warm bed to sleep in and clean water to drink and a nice breakfast waiting for me in the morning. So many people don't have those things, so I make sure that God knows I'm grateful that I do." 

He excitedly told me about the sign he has hanging in his office at home that proclaims that Every Day Is a Gift From God. "Isn't it true, though?" He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. 

And it's true. Every day is a gift. And I, for one, am grateful for that reminder.


So that's where I am, friends. My new job is pretty dang sweet. I miss my old coworkers, and it's strange to be working so autonomously. At BYUtv I worked pretty independently, but there were always people around. I think that this seclusion is going to take some getting used to, but I think that if that's the most negative thing about my job thus far, I'll be just golden. It's not like I'm an introvert who enjoys alone time or anything. :)

Aaaand, I'm out.