Strangers on a Train

San Francisco is full of worker bees trying to get from point A to B; people getting on and off buses, in and out of the subway tunnels and trying to get to their destination.  A vast network of veins that connect several neighborhoods, the municipal trains (better known to San Franciscan's as Muni) has about 700,000 people that ride it daily.  Because the city is so diverse, you can find all different walks of life that ride the trains at any given time of day.  The possibilities are endless.  And whether I liked it or not, riding the train meant encountering the good, the bad, and the ugly.  That was one of the drawbacks to living in the city by the bay.  You name it and I've most likely seen it: fierce drag queens, drunken happy hour patrons, overworked workaholics, and plenty of eye candy for days on end.  But the worst is during rush hour when all the worker bees are packed in tightly like sardines, and there's hardly any room to move or breathe.  The best part about riding the train, however, is the possibility of meeting Mr Right or Mr. Right Now.  That's just one of the perks of living one of the gayest cities in the world.  And I was on my way to finding out just how easy it was to find a perspective anything on the train.
It was a Friday night, and I was on my way home from grocery shopping (don't judge) when I hopped on the train heading to the Sunset.  There I was with two grocery bags and no where to go except home.  Of course I could have gone out and enjoyed the festivities of the Castro, but I opted to just stay in.  About halfway through the ride home I noticed a very cute guy leaning against the train walls, and he seemed to be having difficulties standing on his feet.  He might have been easy on the eyes but he was also drunk.  It's usually a bad first impression, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy.  After all, haven't we all been there before?
As I sat there with my bag of groceries, I couldn't help but steal glances at him from time to time.  He was still struggling to keep his balance, and at one point he almost fell over but managed to keep himself standing.  And then the inevitable happened: the seat next to me opened up.  He took this opportunity and sat right next to me.  He glanced over and me and acknowledged me with a half smile.
"How's your night?" he asked me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.  He slurred his words a little, but he managed to get his words across.  He flashed a smile, and I nearly melted right there.  So he had a few drinks, but his smile negated that for the moment.
I looked down at my groceries and said, "Not very exciting. Grocery shopping."  I laughed, but it was more because I was nervous. "Looks like you had a better night."
He smiled again.  "Yeah.  I had a few drinks with some friends."  A few drinks?
There was an uncomfortable silence and then I said, "You live in the outer Sunset?"
"Yeah.  Except, I can't remember where to get off..."  He took a glance out the train window.  "I think I get off at 40th."  He laughed, and I was hoping it was due to the fact that he couldn't remember what stop to get off.
"I can tell you when we get to 40th if that will help."  Although it sounded like a friendly gesture, what I really wanted ask him if I could tuck him into bed.  Fortunately, my inside voice didn't always come through.
"Thanks.  That's really nice of you."  He paused for a moment and asked, "Where do you get off?"
"I get off at forty-sixth."  I realized that my eyes kept coming back to his, and I was worried that it was becoming too obvious.  Maybe it was the booze or the fact that he was attracted to me, but regardless, he kept staring at me with his bedroom, drunken glossy eyes.
"You're really sweet.  And you're cute, too."
I blushed when I heard this, and I became speechless.  Say thank you, Will.  You can do it.  Thank the nice, drunken cutie.  Finally, the words escaped my mouth.  "Thanks."
As we sat there trying make small talk, I noticed that his stop was coming up and told him.  Maybe it was just me, but I couldn't help but notice he seemed disappointed.  It was either that or he was trying to refrain from vomiting, but I wasn't sure.
"What's your name?" he asked, showing off that dashing smile again.
I couldn't believe we sat there for as long as we did and we didn't even exchange names.  "My name is Will."
"Mine is Jeffrey."  He paused for a second and then, "Do you want my number?"  Introductions and now we're jumping to exchanging phone numbers? 
I restrained myself from jumping up from my seat and screaming at the top of my lungs "Hell yes I want your number!  Hallelujah!"  Instead, I remained calm and composed, and answered, "Sure."  There was only one problem:  I didn't have my cell phone or a pen on me.  "I don't have my phone on me." 
"Me either," replied Jeffrey. He looked at me as if searching for a solution to our dilemma. 
I looked around until my gaze landed on the old Asian woman sitting across from us; she gave us a look of judgement and disapproval.  I was running out of time, and I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity of giving him my number.  "Excuse me, do you have a pen?"  The woman looked at me, shocked, but she reluctantly pulled out a pen from her purse.  She acted as if she was contributing to a heinous crime or political conspiracy. The train finally came to it's destination just as I took the pen from the woman's hand.  I grabbed Jeffrey's arm and wrote my name and number on the palm of his hand. 
As he got up from his seat he looked at me one more time and pointed at his cheek.  "Give me a kiss before I go."  And in a matter of seconds my lips were touching his cheek, and before I knew it he was gone.  I sat there on the train, smiling from ear to ear.  It was at the same moment that I realized the old Asian woman was giving me a look of disgust, and I gave the pen back to her.  But there was nothing she could say or do to pull me down from my cloud.  And as I got off the train and walked the three blocks that lead me home, my smile didn't disappear.
The next day I waited, but I didn't hear from him.  As a matter of fact, he didn't contact me that whole week.  I posted an add on craigslist missing connection page in hopes that I would hear from him, but there was still no response.  And after a few weeks had passed of not hearing from Jeffrey, my optimism turned to disappointment.  Little did I know that my encounter would turn up again, but this time when I least expected it.  That's the beauty of San Francisco: you never know who you're going to run into.