Weirdos, hobos, and need-to-be institutionalized people often frequent this infernal place. Their favorite past times are to badger young girls named Amy and generally cause a ruckus. These vagrants also target people with headphones in, people who are trying to sleep at six thirty in the morning, and anybody who makes eye contact.
Despite the weirdos sometimes Utah becomes an even smaller world here when one of your peeps gets on Trax and just happens to sit RIGHT in front of you. A serendipitous moment where you get to actually enjoy the company of the people squished up against you on the ride home. I call this the Law of Trax.
If there is someone you know getting on Trax, the laws of the universe will push them towards you, shifting two people to finally snap together like magnets. No intention, no planning, just bada bing bada boom and they're instantly in front of you. This has happened to me a lot so I know that Trax has this odd power to throw people together. The wizardry of Trax however does not always work out in your favor.
Which is what happened one dreary February morning. The universe was at work connecting people on their morning commutes, it's current project, me and a boy I had just gone on a date with. The problem, I never wanted to see this guy again after that date. He was arrogant and couldn't stop telling me about how he got busted for weed a few years back but was a "born-again" LDS kid. He had been a free ticket to a Mummy Museum I'd wanted to see downton and that was all. Little did I know that Trax had something else in mind. The whirring of it's engines giggled that morning in anticipation to see what would happen if it threw said boy into the path of tired Amy.
My nose was buried in a Spanish textbook, fervently reading and re-reading Spanish vocab for a quiz later that day. Que hiciste ayer? Que comiste? Que... what the heck are you doing here, I thought to myself as weed-boy sat right in from of me, his curly hair tied up in a ponytail and his belly tucked into a pantsuit. All hopes of sleeping, listening to music, or studying flew out the window thanks to my good friend, Trax.
Despite my body language saying, I never want to talk to you again and am clearly trying to study here, he was brave and ventured to reach past my piercing glare pinning him to his seat. Okay maybe I'm just a horrible person, but I just wasn't interested in Born Again Weed Boy. So the instant we hit a university stop, I stood up. He reached for me like Romeo reaching for his Juliet up above. He opened his lips and the dreaded words poured out, "Maybe we should go out again, like next Friday?"
My tired mind could think of no gentle response, and merely constructed the intelligent answer of, "Maybe," and then gave my legs the power to sprint like an Olympic athlete. I won the bronze medal for turning boys down that day. Thank you Trax for that glorious experience. I appreciate all that you do for me...
I've had a couple other choice experiences, like little children barfing on the floor of the Trax car, and then being able to watch that barf flow down the car at the urging of the jostling train. And of course the Man of Many Moles. But maybe I should keep that story in the vault for next time. Because really I don't want to take away from the message that Trax is a scumbag and loves to toy with your day. So if you ever have the chance to ride Trax, you might want to bring it an offering of oil and children's hair, just so it will stay on your side, at least for a day.
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