Fifteen minutes in the life.

I pull my newly purchased bag of chocolate covered pretzels, ones that I finally worked up the courage to buy, from my bag. You would think that it wouldn't be, like, a big deal to buy a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. I wanted the pretzels. I thought about them for two days, debating the calories and the extra minutes it would take me on the treadmill to work them off and whether or not I would actually enjoy them enough for those calories to be worth it, before going ahead and buying the damn pretzels. I wonder to myself why I am so weird as I try to open these pretzels. They won't open. I tug and tug, the loud crinkle of the plastic bag echoing off the bare walls of the train station waiting room. The people to the right and left of me, sitting down towards the ends of the long, wooden bench, look subtly in my direction. Nearly 60 seconds later, I am still attempting to open this bag of chocolate covered pretzels, cursing myself for having the audacity to finally buy them in the first place. When nearly two minutes go by, it starts to get embarrassing and my face begins to flush. 

A man walks up the stairs to the waiting room and asks the woman sitting 3 feet to the left of me if it's okay for him to sit down next to her, then proceeds to sit down next to me. All of this room on this bench and he sits within 12 inches of me. Not to mention he's closer to me than the woman he had asked to sit down next to. I marvel at the oddities that are my life and continue to try and open the bag of chocolate covered pretzels. 

A few minutes later the man asks no one in particular if this is the track with the train that leads to Trenton, New Jersey. 

"No," a girl sitting down the bench to the right of me tells him, "that's Track 4. It's on the other side of this track and-" she points out the window to the train making it's exit from the station, "it just left."

"Dammit!" He cries, bringing his hands to his head. He then gets up and runs back down the stairs to the station.

I bring my attention back to the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and my arms begin to shake with exertion. I dig my nail into the top of the bag, trying to poke a hole in it so I could then rip the bag open from there. Science. It doesn't work, and my nail starts to hurt.

An African-American man in his fifties sitting farther down the bench than the lady to left of me begins to rap aloud the lyrics to the song he's listening to on his iPod. Everyone in the waiting room stiffens in an awkward manner as we all try to pretend that this is totally appropriate. I mean, why wouldn't we want to listen to his rendition of from what I can tell are a string of mumbles and obscenities?

I pull my keys out of my bag in an attempt to poke a hole like before, only with something stronger and more durable than a nail, but can't quite get my grip right and by now, the girl to my right is just outright staring at me. I have become her train-waiting entertainment. 

I decide to take a break and read my book for awhile. I pull my book out of my bag and read about a paragraph when my stomach starts to grumble. Going for the sneak-attack approach, I pick up the bag again and pull on its sides really, really fast. As if somehow I've gotten stronger and the bag weaker within the thirty second time frame of me setting it down. It doesn't budge.

The woman to my left starts making strange moaning noises that make me incredibly uncomfortable. I look around to see that everyone else is pretty uncomfortable about it, too. Her eyes are closed and she's just sitting there, moaning. I shake my head. 

I check the time. 2:48. The train will be here in 13 minutes. I begin to read my book again. The man continues his rap. The woman, her moan. I check the time again. 2:50. Fuck.

I pick up the bag of chocolate covered pretzels and stare at it. Just stare at it. Okay... I tell it. In my mind, of course. I'm not a crazy person. We are going to try this one more time, my friend. And this time, you will open up so that I can enjoy the chocolatey, salty goodness I damn well paid for. Got it?

I muster up the strength and courage of a mighty warrior as I once again place my hands along the sides of the plastic bag of chocolate covered pretzels. In seemingly slow motion, I tug and the bag gives way, revealing to me a sea of tiny chocolate covered pretzels.

"YES!" I exclaim, fist in the air. A mighty warrior who's battle has been completed. My chest swells with pride as I look around only to find an empty train station waiting room. No one there to witness my defeat.

I look out the window to see my train has arrived, stuff my chocolate covered pretzels in my bag, and run to join the others on the train.