For years I rode public transportation to work. Most days were uneventful, but there were times I did have "events," as I've shared with you in my Train Tales blogs. My job evolved to where I was only going downtown two days a week. Now, the company has moved headquarters, and I can no longer take public transportation to work. Which means I'm nearing the end of my train stories. I have one final story to share with you along with some words of wisdom.

One afternoon the train was nearly empty. There were around fifteen people riding in the same car as I was. We were all quietly waiting to get to our stations when a phone began to ring. A young woman pulled out her phone and began talking. At first, it was hard to tell what they were discussing. That is, until she said, "You're the only person I told. How did she know?"

I kept my face turned away from the woman, not wanting to intrude on what little privacy she had on a public train.

The woman was very upset and kept saying, "How did she find out? Did you tell anyone?" Finally, it all became clear when she said, "Then how did she know. You're the only person I told that I was pregnant."

I looked around at the other passengers and saw that they'd heard the same thing. A whole lot more people knew her secret than she realized, and I had a really good idea how others had found out.

My words of wisdom to you: If you want to keep a secret, don't talk about it in public. You never know who's listening.

Homelessness is a devastating problem for many of our big cities. Sometimes in extreme weather, shelters aren't able to accommodate all the  people who need protection from the elements. There are some homeless, however, who want their independence and refuse to go to shelters. (I know because they've told me!)

In winter, it's rather common to get on a train and find a homeless person sleeping. Most of the time, they are simply are looking for shelter out of the cold. However, occasionally, you'll come across one who is either mentally off-balance or very angry with the world. One morning, there was one guy who was probably a combination of both.

There was a section of seating shaped like an L, and this homeless man was using it to sleep. He was taking up four seats.

A professional man got on the train and walked over to the homeless man. He politely asked if he could sit in one of the seats. The homeless man stood up, allowed the other man to sit down and then began harassing the professional man about how rude it was to wake someone up. Mr. Professional was trying to be nice about it, but nothing he said or did calmed the homeless guy down. The homeless man did something I'd never witnessed in my life and hope to never see again. WARNING: If you're squeamish, skip the rest of this paragraph! The homeless man vomited on cue -- no finger down the throat or anything like that, just opened his mouth and threw up -- onto the professional man. We were all horrified and gagging, trying not to get sick ourselves.

At the next stop, the homeless man left the train.

The next day, when I got on the train, I saw another homeless man. He was slouched down like he was sleepy but still awake. Scarred by the event of the previous day, I stayed as far away from this man as I possibly could. During the ride, a couple of people got a little rowdy, and I saw this man sit alert and closely watch them. That's when I realized, this was no ordinary homeless guy. We had an undercover policeman watching over us! I was so grateful the city had taken precautions to make sure we didn't experience the other homeless guy again!

When I think of crazy train experiences, this is the one that pops into my mind immediately. It was my first really wild experience, and probably the most scary.

​I rode the commuter train for years. Never once did I ever feel like my life was truly in danger. There were moments when I was uncomfortable, I was offended, I was entertained. I never worried for my life. I share that because as crazy as this story is, I was grateful for the quick and professional response of the police and the manner in which they handled the situation. It was reassuring to see if something truly bad happened that help would be close by.

​It all started early one morning. The train was nearly empty, and I liked sitting in the first few passenger seats at the front of the train. The driver sat in a metal and glass compartment completely separated from the passengers. We could see him; he could see us. But a complete wall prevented us from any physical contact.

​I got on the train this morning, and the only person close to me was a tiny, frail-looking elderly lady. She was short and thin and reminded me a lot of my grandmother. I smiled at her and sat across the aisle. The train began moving, and the lady moved to the very front seat. She was intensely staring at the driver and got up a couple of times to peer through the window at him. We made it through a couple of station stops. A few people trickled onto the train, and the lady kept pacing between her seat and the driver's compartment.

​"I know you," she said several times and pointed her finger at the driver. At this time, I thought she'd either recognized him or had a case of mistaken identity. "I know who you are," she said, and her voice got a little louder. "Come out here," she demanded and knocked on the glass. "I know you. Get out here now."

​She wasn't yelling, but her voice raised in volume. We went past a couple more stations. She continued to pace back and forth and call out to the driver. He continued to ignore her.

​By this time, I was making eye contact with other passengers. They were as confused as I was. None of us interacted with the lady, who got more animated by the minute. She began yelling at the driver. "I know who you are. You're the devil. I'm not afraid of you, Devil!"

​She pounded on the door to his compartment and began yelling at the top of her lungs. People around me were now getting scared. As far as I could tell, she didn't have a weapon, and she was so frail that I felt good about my chances if she attacked me. However, I wasn't going to antagonize her. I pretended to read my book while I secretly watched her.

​Then she said, "I'll kill you, Devil. Get out here. I'm going to kill you."

​I wanted to call security, but I was way to close to her to do it. I was sure she'd hear me and decide I was a devil, too. So, I watched her become more vocal, more threatening, and I prayed that the driver stayed inside his compartment where he was safe.

​The next stop after she'd begun the death threats, I glanced up and saw a reflection in the driver's window of someone walking down the aisle toward us. The elderly lady was too busy yelling at the driver to notice that a policeman had entered the train and was slowly walking our way. When she finally turned and saw him, she calmly walked to her seat and sat down where she stayed until the next stop.

​At that point, the policeman calmly asked the lady to step off the train with him. She very sweetly asked, "Why officer? Is there something wrong?"

He simply said, "Please step off the train with me."

She politely got up and walked to the steps and exited the train, where I could see six other officers waiting for her. As the doors slid closed, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then one passenger said to us.

"I think she's off her meds. She did the exact same thing on the 6 pm train last night."

​I never heard what happened to her, and I hope she got the help she needed. It taught me a valuable lesson. Never assume anything based on a person's looks! That sweet little grandma may just be ready to kill the devil!

Sometimes simply waiting for the train can be an adventure. Depending on the day, the platform can be packed or empty, and this particular day, it was vacant. It was a pretty day, warm - but not overly so -- and I had my eReader out enjoying a good romance.

"Hey Miss."

I looked up, expecting to see someone asking me for money. When people interrupt your reading, that's the typical question. Either that, or they're lost and need directions. But typically, they want money.

Instead, this homeless man held out a flower. "This is for you."

"No, thank you," I said as politely as I could. I suspected that he'd give me the flower and then expect payment for it.

"Take it. It's yours."

"Thank you, but no, thanks." I smiled and tried to be as nice as I could, since he was being so pleasant.

Instead of accepting that I didn't want the flower, he began cussing, threw the flower at my feet and stormed away. That's when I realized that he'd picked the flower from one of the planters on the platform.

I guess I'll never know if he genuinely wanted to give me a flower or if he wanted money. Either way, he didn't take the rejection well.

Don't be jealous. Not everyone can be serenaded with Olivia Newton-John songs on the train.

One afternoon, it was really crowded on the train home. My stop was at the end of the line, which meant I might have to stand for forty minutes until it was my turn to leave. Instead, someone got up and let me have her seat because she was getting off at the next stop. I was really grateful and sat down next to a man who looked to be in his 40's. He introduced himself as Chris, and our conversation went like this:

​Chris: I'm going home.
Me: That's good.
Chris: Yeah, I've been in the hospital. I had a brain injury.
​Me: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
​I opened my book and tried to read.
​Chris: I'm a singer.
Me: Oh, that's nice.
Chris: My band is in Florida.
​I just smiled and tried to read my book.
​Chris: I couldn't go with them. I was in the hospital.
​I nodded and kept reading.
Chris: I had a brain injury, so I couldn't go to Florida with my band.
​I didn't respond. I was beginning to believe he had a brain injury since he was repeating himself.
Chris: Do you see that man over there?
​I looked up and saw an elderly man watching us. He was tall and frail-looking, and he smiled at me when I made eye contact with him.
Chris: That's my bodyguard. He's making sure I get home safe.
​Me: That's nice.
​Chris: You know, if you were my woman, he'd be your bodyguard, too.
​Oh, no. I realized too late that the guy was crazy. I read my book and tried to ignore him. I didn't want to be rude, and the train was too crowded for me to change seats, so I sat there and tried to limit my contact with Chris. He wasn't done, though.
​Chris: My band is in Florida.
​I didn't respond.
​Chris: I couldn't go with them because I had a head injury. John is helping me get home from the hospital. He's my bodyguard.
​I glanced at the elderly man, and he smiled at me. So, I assumed John really was escorting Chris home.
​Chris: If you were my woman, I'd say, "John, take care of her," and he would.
​John smiled at me again, and I tried to read my book and ignore Chris.
​Chris: Do you like The Eagles?
​Me: They're OK.
​Chris: What? Everyone loves The Eagles. You don't like The Eagles? What about Olivia Newton-John? Everyone loves her.
​Then Chris began to sing Let Me Be There - loudly. I was grateful he chose that one and not Physical!
​The train stopped, one stop before mine, and John said, "Come on, Chris, this is our stop."
​Chris told me goodbye and got off the train. I was even more grateful we didn't have the same stop!
​After Chris was gone, a lady across the aisle said, "You'll be careful who you sit next to from now on, won't you?"
​I smiled at the lady - if she only knew. I was a magnet for train adventures, and I knew Chris wouldn't be my last one.

Whose turn is it to sing next?

On this particular afternoon, the train was a little lighter than usual. There was enough room for everyone to sit down, the weather was nice, and all the passengers seemed to be calm and relaxed.

​Maybe that's why the woman broke into song. I'm not sure what the tune was, and her voice was actually pleasant, so it didn't seem like anyone cared that she was singing. She sang a couple of songs until a few stops later got off the train -- still singing.

​A new group got onto the train, and once we started moving again, a man began singing. Just like the lady before him, no one seemed to mind, and he sang until the next stop when he got off.

​When the train started again, we all looked around at each other, wondering if someone else was going to sing. Fortunately, or unfortunately, no one did, and the singing marathon ended.

I'm either looking really good or homeless today! A man on the train just tried to give me money.

Riding public transit, it's pretty common to see people asking for change. Some of them are dirty, smelly, and you're not really sure when the last time was that they had a roof over their heads. Some of them look like college kids who maybe forgot their wallets that day. Some of them tell you heartbreaking stories, and some of them will simply say they want to buy a burger or to ride the train back home.

​I try to treat each of them with respect; although, I typically will not give them cash. if I have an extra water or something like that, then I gladly hand it over. I try to smile at each person I see regardless of what they look like (and maybe that's why I have so many adventures on the train!)

​One very early morning, I was standing at the station waiting for the train when a man approached me. He said, "Excuse me."

I smiled at him and waited for his story of why he wanted money. Instead, he said, "Do you need some change?"

​Me: Um, no, thank you.
​Him: Are you sure? (He holds out his hand, and it has some coins in it.) You can have this if you want it.
​Me: I'm good. Thanks, anyway.
​Him: OK, if you're sure. (He walks away.)

​I didn't see him offer anyone else any money. So, I wasn't exactly sure what to think of it. Either he thought I was homeless or maybe he was flirting. I guess I'll never know.

One afternoon I stepped onto a mostly empty train. There was a lady several feet away from me with two small children. The older child was an adorable little boy with a sweet face whom I guessed was maybe four years old. The younger child looked around 18 months - 2 years.

The mother was a young lady who seemed frazzled and was trying to comfort the fussy baby while balancing a large sack of food. The older boy, Angel, was mischievous and friendly and seemed to enjoy himself on the train ride.

​I smiled at the little boy and then turned my attention to the book I'd brought. That is, until I heard the mother admonish Angel for shoving gummy bears into his brother's mouth.

The impish grin on the little boy's face hinted that maybe Angel was no Angel. Good luck, Mom. That precious little boy is going to keep you on your toes for years to come!

Have you ever met someone and felt immediately that you could share your whole life's story with them?

​I've met a person or two that I felt that way with. On the flipside, I seem to be one of those people that total strangers feel comfortable sharing the most interesting things with. Which is probably why I've had so many adventures on the commuter train I take to work.

​For years, I've shared these adventures with friends and family, and I've had several requests to write a book about them. I'm not sure if I'll write a book or not, but I thought I'd share my adventures with you. I'll share the Facebook post I made about the incident and then give you the background story.


​If your doctor says not to talk, that probably includes talking to strangers on the train, too.

When riding the commuter train, I usually take out my eReader and read a story. This helps the time go by quickly and usually keeps people from bothering me. Usually. One day, I sat down in an empty seat next to a nice-looking lady, pulled out my eReader and began reading. The lady started asking me a lot of questions: what was I reading, did I like my eReader, did I always read on the train, etc.
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​I politely answered them and tried to get back to reading my story. However, the lady really wanted to talk. She started telling me how she was coming back from the doctor's office, and that her doctor had told her to stop talking for the next couple of weeks to help take care of some throat problem she was having.

​As politely as I could, I pointed out that the vocal chords might get strained like any other part of the body, and they might need rest in order to heal. She was amazed that it was possible to hurt her voice and proceeded to tell me how surprised she was by the doctor's orders -- for the next 20 minutes!  My bet is she didn't follow her doctor's orders for the 2 weeks she needed to stop talking.
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