It's Just a Story, Man

It’s 6:02 AM. My green all-weather puffer jacket from UNIQLO is drenched. I arrived at Gare de Lyon, heading into Hall 2 to catch my 6:18 train. I’m hurrying to PAUL's to grab a coffee. Yesterday, I finished David Brooks’ new book, “How to Know a Person,” and had decided that I would fully embody one of the book's main messages from now on: Get to know people's stories to fully see them for who they are.

“Un café filtre, s'il vous plaît,” I say, fully knowing that they don’t sell filter coffee at PAUL’s. It’s my new strategy to confuse PAUL’s employees so that they have to start a conversation with me. You know, I'm trying to care about the story of the 6 AM not in a good mood employee who's anxiously trying to fend off any other traveller who could potentially become angry and rude because he hasn't read David Brooks’ book and who simply wants to get his coffee as quickly as possible and not miss his train.

I just paid for a coffee in a tiny cup. The PAUL’s employee told me there was no filter coffee and that everything they had was on the menu in front of me. I fully see you now, man.

I texted my mother that I’m getting on the train now. I’m rushing to the train, spilling my not filter coffee, served by my new friend whom I got to know so well. Shit, it’s the wrong train. I’m rushing to Hall 1.

The doors are closing; the train is leaving. I chugged my coffee while running. I’m sitting down on seat 77 in coach 15. I’m buzzing; the caffeine is hitting me. 3.5 hours of train ride ahead of me.

There is one Asian-looking, fashion-vibe, Paris-loving-looking dude in front of me to the left, facing me, giving me a cheeky smile. Probably gay. Next to me, on my left, is no one. In front of me, facing me, is a girl with short hair, rebellious, Geneva-born, moved to Paris to study art or political science but ending up spending most of her time demonstrating for the environment, against capitalism, and for Palestine. On the right of me is the corridor. And to the right of the corridor, four dudes are staring at their phones, probably scrolling through Twitter, fantasizing about Elon Musk and his big rocket.

I’m buzzing, man. I’m alive. I’m sharp. Screw that PAUL’s employee and everyone taking that train with me. I’m sharp; I’m alive right now. I will listen to my podcast now. I will figure out the world now so that I can change the world later. And to all of those losers sharing this section of the train with me, enjoy your miserable lives, enjoy your slow deaths.

(satire)