There’s No Space Left on the T, So I’m Going To Sit in This Single Mother’s Stroller
Article by: Reese | Photo by: Lizzy
GREEN LINE – Let me paint you a picture. I can’t feel my toes. It’s the heart of winter. I just left my 8 A.M. HUB class and I never brushed my hair. I’m still hungry because eating the watery yellow stuff Marciano calls “eggs” wasn’t enough. All I want to do is get on the T and go home.
I waited 13 minutes for the train because why would Boston provide cheap, reliable public transportation? Finally, like a messenger from heaven, it arrives. I go to seek refuge in its warm embrace. But then, I remember: it’s never that easy.
As the train rolls to a stop, I notice every ounce of space is taken. Desperate students waiting to board run by me to use other doors. But I stand strong. It could be cramps from the Marciano “eggs”, but my gut is speaking to me. I believe this door will have space for me. And so I close my eyes. I clench my cheeks, say a prayer, and wait for the door to open.
…I’m fucked.
Looking inside the train, all I see is defeat. A train full of people I’ve made awkward eye contact with at FitRec and that I haven’t spoken to since Welcome Week. I panic that I won’t find a spot for me and my dump truck. But then, I looked right in front of me. A mother was standing there, holding her crying infant child and trying to cheer it up. She was tired, but more importantly, distracted. I looked past the snotty baby and distressed single mother, and there lay my golden ticket. My one chance.
A tiny, pink stroller.
I quickly scan the train for opps who will hold this over my head until I graduate. To my left, I see one: a guy I ghosted on Hinge two weeks ago. The kind of guy that would pay an Etsy witch to summon my downfall. I imagine myself confidently sitting in that pink stroller, cramming my big man hips into this poor child’s sacred space and losing whatever pride I had left in the process. Yet, the mere thought of sitting in that stroller and age regressing in real time in front of past huzz sends shivers up my spine. I finally snap back into reality. I am above this.
Surely the walk home wouldn’t be that bad. I check the weather app, and I drop to my knees. It would be 34 degrees out, but thanks to Boston being the birthplace of all wind, it’s -12°! Do I risk literally dying on my walk home from hypothermia? Do I sacrifice my pride and squeeze into that tiny, emasculating contraption? I think back to the 3 times I slipped on black ice this week alone in front of CAS. If those falls didn’t kill me, then neither will this.
I am that desperate.
Nervously, I look to my right and see three girls from my fuckass HUB class that I always come to hungover and looking homeless. If I sit in this hot pink stroller, I’m signing a social death warrant. They’re going to farm 100 YikYak upvotes off my shame and despair. I’m going to be known as “YikYak Stroller Twink” in less than a day by my friends and family. I realize this stroller represents losing all my friendships, speedrun style.
I’m sweating now. I’m sweating and I’m desperate, which somehow makes me sweat more!
Panicking, I check my phone to find the next train. The entire green line is delayed and the next train comes in an hour. There’s no one coming to save me. This stroller is my inevitable future. I make awkward eye contact with the toddler, and I hope he knows that this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt him.
Nervously, I step into the train, squeezing past the exhausted mother. I duck my head, pull my hood over my face, and quietly sink into the stroller. The pink, pretty stroller creaks and stretches. It was made for a light baby. Yet here a 200lb behemoth sits. I look up and see the mother in shock and disgust, and I try to figure out where my life went so wrong. Still, I made my decision. Even if I wanted to get up, I couldn’t. I can’t move my legs apart anymore, and I’m now trapped inside this poor child’s stroller. The baby yelled and cried, but it was too late. There was no un-breaking of this child’s stroller. I gave her a weak smile, and promised I’d hold my farts until after I got off the train.
I looked at the floor in silence.
Nobody said anything.
The train kept moving.
Maybe being the YikYak stroller twink is worth it.