Living in a country that's facing "change" and a city that appears to be "cleaning up" by the day, it would be hoped that the benefits of these terms would be more than purely aesthetic. Adverse with these terms is the truth that neither city nor country are striving for a severance from fear and anxiety, both of which feel somewhat synonymous for "change" and "cleaning up." Why is it though, that these suspicions develop? Frequently riding the T, specifically the Orange Line, may have something to do with this newly acquired apprehensiveness.
Whatever the time of day it may be there is always a delay to be expected on the Orange Line, to the point that questioning it's possible delay is game-esque. Each work day Sean I found ourselves taking bets, gentleman's of course, on how late and why the T just can't seem to make it. Days that begin with, "There has been a police action at (fill in the stop name here), the next train to Oak Grove will be here shortly", typically have me dripping with the jitters until we make it to State. The long, loud blasts underground between stops instills a fear in me that at any moment, from any direction, an explosion from a pipe bomb in one of the cars is about to come barreling towards our car. I do have to credit the MBTA though, as fear inducing delays only occur once or twice a week and usually pertain to troublemakers or thieves.
Relief had set in for a week of tension free riding, albeit last evening I was heavily injected with fear on the ride home from work; sans Sean. Catching the Orange Line Outbound from State, I took a seat on the third bench to the left as you enter the terminal. Seated next to two women in conversation, a young man, roughly twenty-three to twenty-eight looking, strolled by. Rather normal. Though this bearded young man, dressed in a grey college shirt, jeans and tan Adidas sneakers walked quite strange on his way by. Dragging and shuffling his feet, the young man began glaring from his peripherals as he approached. Fully turning his head as he passed, the young man began eyeballing the persons before the bench I was seated on. As he stared at the others on the bench and myself he did that strange, "I'm not eyeballing you, but I am eyeballing you" look; moving his head quickly when he acknowledge the furrowed looks shot back in his direction.
Shuffling his nosy self down the terminal, the woman seated next to me asked, "What's his problem?" I turned slightly and agreed back, "Yeah he needs to keep his eyes to himself." The woman and I laughed and resumed our separate lives, she engaging in a conversation with a friend on her left and I looking straight out to the tracks. Focused on nothing in general as the advertisements blurred, anxiety leaked into my thoughts, "this train is going to detonate." He passed by once again in the same asleep foot, rubbernecking' manner before the T came in.
The two ladies and I boarded the car in front of his and sat at the back end. A poor choice for the already paranoid mind. Without having a clear few of this peculiar man, my nerves tensed with every lurch and halt of the T. Downtown Crossing and Chinatown stops came through with little fear. The long pass of white noise from Chinatown to New England Medical had my panic saturated mind waiting for the moment a blast of heat, fire and nails (assuming he'd use a pipe bomb), to transpire in our car. Not knowing whether or not the young man had exited the train at this point continued to drive the nails of worry deeper into my Central Nervous System, to the point that I was ready to exit the train at Back Bay and walk the two miles back to Roxbury Crossing.
Ultimately I choked down my "Severe" rating to "Guarded" and proceeded to ride until my final destination, no pun intended. I survived the remainder of the ride unscathed and felt an instant pass of relief walking through the terminal gates as I exited onto Tremont St. The problem though, in retrospect, is not that I have a built of level of anxiety that around every corner is a potential threat to myself or other persons. Rather it's that these fears due occur and more so that, even in a post-9/11 America backslash world, I've never felt this society anxiety the way I now do. It alarms me how strange and sudden these fears have developed. Though to find some clarity, these anxieties come in the same aspect as walking home at night an someone is close behind. It's hard to determine if they are to be suspect or just as scared as you, like when a person says, "Oh snakes are just as scared of you as your are of them."
In essence, it seems these anxieties are a fear of the unknown, more so than anything else. Not knowing if the person seated next to you, rubbernecking is friend or foe, or if the person following you close from T stop is going to mug you, until noticing they live in the same building as you. These subtle observations of strange behavior still leave me wondering, "Am I to assume these people are dangerous?" And is that more safe for me? Or am I being ridiculously over cautious and these people are fearing the same things I am, maybe even about me." It will be sometime before these fears subside, but for now I'll practice the repetition of the Orange Line mantra-Eyes on the sign make Orange Line rides fine.
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