Carl wanted to punch the woman in the face. I obviously won’t, but man would I love to, he said to himself. He also wondered if he’d have felt this strongly toward her if it weren’t for the paranoid glances she kept darting his way since he had sat on the seat parallel to hers. He immediately arched his eyesight to the floor and noticed her masculine leather-look black boots with a platform so unnecessary they were bound to add a couple of inches to her height. Carl then noticed how the woman’s jeans were too short for her legs showing almost to the top of these hideous boots, which made him believe she was a completely stupid woman for dressing so badly.
Get Published on Female First
As he sat in his seat waiting for the train to leave the station, and with nothing to occupy him yet (he didn’t like getting his things out until everyone was seated and the train started moving), the corner of his eye was engaged with the woman. Her presence alone became irritating to him, everything she did he now had to witness and note. He felt he didn’t exactly have to go out of his way to be distracted by her, or to find excuses for his irritability. She began tapping her nail on a lipstick case, at least that is what he assumed it to be. She wants to irritate me, the bitch, he thought to himself.
The train slowly began to move and Carl began to settle himself. He folded up his coat and arranged it on the chair beside him, pulled down his tray and placed on it his phone, wallet and iPod. This distracted him for a little until the woman caught his eye again. He indirectly became cantankerous with the entire female gender as the woman continuously shook her hair, using a compact mirror to look down her nose at herself. Carl immediately questioned the sanity of women in general, and found that the vanity of this woman in particular disgusted him. His petulant glare became a frown as she stopped fixing herself in the mirror and produced a clicking sound instead. Carl tried to figure out how she was making the sound, and although it seemed as if it were coming from her mouth he wouldn’t believe it because of how socially bizarre that would be.
He decided to drown out her annoyingness by listening to music. As he listened to his country rock album he tapped his foot on the floor and his fingers on the tray simultaneously. Unfortunately for Carl he felt as he were stripped of his sanity as his battery died five minutes in; if he was forced to sit across from this painfully annoying woman due to a packed train he should at least be given simple pleasures, such as the ability to listen to his own music.
Now, being forced out of his musical cocoon that once protected him from outside annoyances and gave him the chance to grow out of his prickly shell, Carl was left to take in his surroundings. As he was determined to ignore the exasperating woman, all he was left to look at was the balding head of the man in front. This man he could work with; he seemed to be a respectable well-dressed businessman surrounded by his business pals. Carl thought all he had to endure was looking at the back of the guy’s head and listen to his business-talk, and that he could do. That is until the train started to pass fields and for some reason, that Carl couldn’t put his finger on, the man repeatedly turned around to almost face Carl, pointing out the window and mumbling to his friends. This highly agitated Carl that the man was crossing a boundary by turning around, it agitated Carl that he didn’t understand what the man was enthusiastically pointing at, and it agitated him how the man was dressed like a businessman yet had the general appearance of a farmer.
Ironically, this didn’t hold his attention for too long, as he was diverted from this trying man back to the grating woman with the man boots as she began singing to herself. She was teasing Carl’s patience as the singing became louder and she would start then stop then start again, so that every time she would start, a new annoyance would commence. He remained annoyed by the man and by the woman simultaneously, and although he did consider how it was rather heartless and bitter of him, he pondered as to whether this woman was actually crazy. However rather than feel sympathy, Carl was, as he had been throughout the journey, irritated.
* * *
Only an hour left of his four hour journey, Carl was beginning to block out the annoying woman by trying to control his travel sickness. He had got into a comfortable position slouched in his seat, fixated on a spot on the window and frequently exhaled as if to calm himself. Randomly, in his right ear he could hear the sweet voice of a little girl who was sitting behind him. She was singing, very delicately, a song she had made up herself. The way the sound bounced off the glass and into his ear he knew she was pressed up close to the window, no doubt admiring the scenery outside. The song was soothing and the sweetness of this little girl made Carl laugh. He thought of how charming it was for her to begin abruptly singing her own song amongst the hustle and bustle of a busy train. He loved how she was comfortable within her own modest space, engaged with the view outside her window, not acknowledging the man who might hear her in front or even the person she was travelling with. The free-spirit and happiness he sensed from the little girl made him light up and admire her. He sat soundly listening to the singing, smiling, as the woman parallel to him nodding along to her own music caught his eye yet again. His beaming smile became a subtle smile as he realised who he had become. As the woman caught him staring he looked forward toward the man who was pointing out of the window yet again. Carl closed his eyes and finally felt content.