how not to behave on a train car

We were on the train, in one of those weird four seaters with the table between them. When we first got on, a 13 year old kid sat across from me and my cousin, which was great. We were all friendly, fairly svelte, and we all enjoyed that third empty seat.

Around Tuckwila, Washington, we got our fourth passenger. She was a sizeable lady, making it quite cramped in our quad, but she seemed nice enough. We all rode along in silence, reading our respective books, when all of a sudden, we heard three little voices from the other end of the car.

It sounded like they were... singing? No, it couldn't be.

We looked at each other and each looked like he/she was having his/her own Twilight Zone Moment. But the sound stopped, so we went back to reading.

Thirty seconds later, the sound began again. And this time it sounded distinctly like three little kids singing... in German. And this time, it didn't stop.

After reading the same paragraph seventeen times, I realized that the situation was getting out of hand. I mean, here we were, in a car full of quiet (silent, in fact) adults, being bombarded by drei kleine deutch songspiels.

"I might have to play my Nasty New Yorker card here," I said, and my seatmates all kind of agreed. I walked to the other end of the car, located mom, smiled my biggest and friendliest smile, and said, "Would it be possible for us to not have any singing? Thanks!"

As I walked back to my seat, the crowds erupted in ovations of thanks, and I was hoisted to their shoulders and dropped off at my seat.

Well, ok, no, but the guy sitting directly behind her waved at me and mouthed "thanks!!" so at least it was appreciated.

I got back to my seat and it was so quiet I began reading again in bliss. Minutes passed like like the scenery outside the window (which is to say, in a blur).

Eventually, my cousin went to the vestible to make a phone call (because it was so quiet in the car) and before he returned, one of the little singers walked past me and gave me the big fat stink eye. When Brian came back, he reported that the mom had also been in the vestibule, saying to the little girl, "Well, why don't you ask her why she didn't want you to sing??"

Excellent parenting.

The trip continued pleasantly, until I made the mistake of engaging our fourth seatmate (La Not-So-Svelte) in conversation.

It didn't stop for the next three hours.

Everything in her life was miserable and sad and depressing and yet she was Totally Fine. I discovered to my dismay, that I couldn't get out of the conversation, so I found myself trying to trap her into contradicting herself. She'd say something like, "An addiction is just a one-way ticket to nowhere," and I'd nod, only to return to the point later and say something like, "I find that challenges -- addictions, bad relationships, dissatisfying jobs -- those are really just the best way to find out what you're made of," and she'd go on and on about how nothing in life is a dead end.

The worst part was that she was talking so loudly, I thought for sure that one of the little German kids would come to her, give her a big, friendly smile and say, "Would it be possible for us to not have any more complaining? Thanks!"