An Open Letter...

This is an open letter to an anonymous girl that was on my train last night, Via train 79, Toronto to Windsor, making various stops along the way.

Dear Train Girl,
Hi there! How are you? Are you doing okay? Did you get home alright? When you came on the train in Brantford and sat across the aisle from me, I couldn't help but notice you. Tall, blonde, well put together and with shockingly little baggage for one who appeared to be a student. You immediately curled yourself up and around the two seats available to you, while I was respectful of the boarding announcement that stated that the train was sold out and that all seats would need to be filled. I therefore kept my feet on the ground, like a good little passanger.
You appeared to fall asleep shortly after we pulled out of the Brantford station. I was happily knitting away, only occasionally looking around to take in my surroundings. I knew sooner or later though, that Pablo, our friendly conductor for the evening, would be coming along to collect your ticket. Which he did.
He stopped by your seat and politely woke you so that he could collect the necessary paper work and accompanying ID, if any. You blearily raised your head from your restful state and, kinda rudely I thought, pointed to where you had jammed your ticket stub into the headrest of the seat in front of you, requiring that Pablo do all the work. Once you had sleepily pointed in a vague direction, you put your head back down and proceeded to sleep. Pablo did as instructed without protest, which I thought was very big of him. In a similar situation, having been treated with the same disregard, I may have kicked you in the shin. But I digress...
Pablo, upon reading your ticket, became a bit concerned. He then asked you if perhaps you had another ticket stub in your possession. You had to have him repeat the question because he of course was disturbing your sleep. He asked again. You replied that yes, you had another ticket, and did he want to see it. Um, yeah, that was kind of the idea behind the question. As you rummaged through your itty-bitty purse, you mummbled something about not being left alone all day. I have to admit that I am paraphrasing here, as I didn't entirely hear what you said.
I think you may have produced another ticket, I'm not entirely sure. In any case, Pablo finally asked you where it was that you were going, because your ticket indicated that you had purchased a fare from Brantford to Toronto. You were equally as confused and told Pablo that you were on the Brantford to Toronto train, at which point Pablo informed you ever so tactfully that you were in fact going to Windsor, which, to be absolutely clear, is nowhere near Toronto. It's about as much in the opposite direction as you can get. If I may, allow me to illustrate this fact a bit further. Windsor is as far as you can go in a southernly direction in Canada. The train doesn't go any further, because there isn't anywhere else to go, accept the US, and that's just a whole other kettle of fish. To be fair, yes, when the train does finally reach Windsor, it will turn around and end up back in Toronto. Maybe that's where you got confused, I don't really know.
In any case, once the dilemma had been uncovered, you, with a looked of stunned panic, looked up questioningly at Pablo, who was now not just an annoyance keeping you from your required eight hours of beauty rest, but the only man in the world with the power to right this wrong. Out of your mouth came the most brilliant statement I had heard that day, which was, "Well then, why did I get on this thing?!?" Pablo's response couldn't have been more fitting. "You tell me" he said bluntly.
As swiftly as a mule kicks one too stupid to stand out of it's way, Pablo rushed you out of the car, as we were fast approaching the next stop. "We'll see if we can get you on the next train" he said. Good thinking Pablo. Stop the bleeding here and now.
So anyhow, I just wanted to make sure that you indeed did end up where you had intended to be. I was also wondering if you have trouble walking and chewing gum, or if you have problems with fine motor skills. You seem quite capable of dressing yourself, as clearly evidenced by the thong that I, as well as a number of other passangers were privy to during your bout of unconciousness. I'm sorry, I should be more specific. While you were sleeping.
Perhaps I am being too judgmental here. Maybe you were just really really high and when the one and only train pulled into your station, as it is not a bustling metropolis with many trains boarding at one time, you just didn't hear the boarding call which stated the train number and subsequent station stops. Perhaps, like me, you have a terrible sense of direction and didn't know that the train you were boarding was facing the wrong way. And it's altogether likely that you didn't even speak to the conductor who stands outside of the car door as passangers are loading to ask them, and then instruct them, on which car to board depending on their destination. Yes, it was a perfect storm of mishaps that lead to it all. Not your fault, clearly.
Anyhow, just wanted to touch base and make sure you made out okay. I hope you're doing well and continue to do so. If I may make one suggestion for the future though...next time, don't forget your helmet.
Sincerely,
Knitty Person on Train...