growing in the goo

One thing that actually bummed me out about moving from D.C. to new place was leaving my Express guy. He would park himself right next to the escalator, and he would say stuff like "looking good!" and "good morning beautiful."

Flattery butters me right up, and it was a nice shot of self esteem, especially when I was feeling less than splendid. So it was with a bit of sadness that I made my last Metro trip from that stop, knowing that I was getting a "good morning beautiful" for like...the last time.

But my new Express guy - he's even better than the last. After about three days of me refusing the paper (it gets my hands inky and icky), he knew that I was just down for conversation. Little snippets of conversation, each day. Ranging from "How are ya?" to "Hey, have a GREAT weekend" and even the rare "oh! I like your dress!" A total pleasure.

There's this line from "Life is Good" by LFO. It is: "A man named Patrick gives me directions, and he smiles as if he cares."

I've always loved that line - because it's so true. You can tell when someone smiles, if they care. Even if they don't know you. My Express guy, he smiles as if he cares.

Well, that is, until this week. He's been gone. And in his place...a yellow, cold, unfeeling rack.

And I know it's lame to count on some random guy for conversation, and for feeling like someone cares, but the sad truth is that he was often the first person I saw in the mornings. I actually looked forward to saying hello. It was nice.