Last Friday I was heading back from New York to DC after work on the 5:39pm Amtrak regional train.  For those of you who don’t know the politics of the mad dash to the train in NYC, let me break it down. 

You don’t have an assigned seat or any of that mess.  You just gaze desperately up at the announcement board that will tell you what track your train is coming on.  Sometimes you can “figure it out” by the small cluster of people who seem to have some inside information and are hanging out around a certain area.  I’m so anxiety ridden trying to “get it right” that I circle the entire floor and try to use the Law of Attraction with persistent thoughts like…
“I clearly picture Katie Rost riding the escalator just below the sign that reads Track 14 West.  I’m holding this vision in my mind with absolute certainty.  I see and I believe and I will receive.”
I can’t be certain other people aren’t doing the same thing.  I’m sure New York City is full of people who have mastered “The Secret”.  Sometimes I call it, sometimes I don’t.  When I’m chanting to myself and rooting for Track 14 West and it ends up being Track 5 East, I just assume that while my use of "The Secret" is excellent, someone else in the train station who is slightly more skilled in their thinking in that exact same moment has attracted another gate and I’ve just got to be clearer with the Universe in the future.  (obvs!)
The reason calling the track is so important is that once you get on the train the primo seat next to a window is taken first.  The person who sits there usually piles all of their crap on the adjacent seat. If you miss the first wave of seat options you have to go train-to-train searching desperately for an alone seat.  Once you fail in this endeavor you have to choose the person whose dreams of uninterrupted space you are about to crush.

“I’m sorry is this seat taken?” you say with a corny apologetic grin.

You then watch them force a smile, say “No” and painstakingly remove all of their crap from the seat.

It’s just no fun to be late to get a seat on the train.

I had a business class ticket on Friday.  Which ups the chances that no one will be sitting next to me and that I will get the window seat.  Regardless, I was ready to haul ass when the track was announced.  I’d used the Law of Attraction perfectly, and I did indeed get a good seat.  Once I was situated however-- feeling rather pleased with myself, I was disrupted by some heavy breathing to my right.  I looked up to find a 400-pound bald brother at my side.  He was rocking an addidas warm up suit with the Jamaica colors, holding an extraordinary amount of personal affects and grasping a deli bag that reeked of something involving onions and artery clogging meat. 

I already knew the “is this seat taken” was eminent.  So, I decided to pretend that I’m a really friendly nice person who loves when 400-pound strangers sit next to me with stinky food.  Might as well make the best out of it, right?! 

So I cleared the seat before the question came out of his mouth.  I then smiled big and said, “Look, my shoes match your outfit!” and pointed down to my Shell Toes with the Jamaica colors.”  He seemed very pleased that I was kind. 

I began contemplating how difficult it must be for someone that over weight to ever ask to sit next to someone on a train without feeling bad about their weight.  I decided to hammer in the niceness in an attempt to boost his confidence by saying “Wow, that smells good”, which is sooooo the opposite. 

He squeezed himself into the seat, his left arm and some of his waist and much of his left thigh took over half of my space.  He opened his platter to reveal a massive cheeseburger with the works.  He then put the platter right under my nose and said, “Take a bite”
Needless to say this was the last thing I wanted to do, so I declined his offer.  I said, “No, you go ahead and enjoy it” 
He said “Oh, don’t you worry Imma enjoy it. No, seriously, take a bite, you’re too skinny”
We went back and forth like this for about 3 minutes; all the while the platter is directly under my nose.  I then explained that I’m a model and I REALLY can’t eat stuff like that.   I’ve recently lost 7 tough to lose pounds and I didn’t want to sabotage.  He shook his head like someone who thinks the reason is silly but he seemed to feel that I wasn’t going to be broken and removed the cheeseburger in defeat.  

After he was done with his burger and was following up with a celebratory bag of peanut m&m’s (which I also declined to share) he turned to me with full pick up swagger and said “So, let me ask you something, would you ever date a heavy bald guy like me?”  He was looking me dead in the eye and he gave me a LL Cool J tongue to porno lip lick to boot. 

I, as always, was reduced to a fit of nervous giggles and eye darting.  His confidence caught me totally off guard.

What is it about people who are incredibly unattractive or incredibly overweight that allows them to feel that way and just ask for what they want with confidence.  Its eerie and I love it.  I feel generally unhappy with my appearance the majority of the time.  I absolutely pick myself apart, which can lead to major drama if anyone else picks on me.  I remember a boyfriend in college pinched my waist and said “Uh-Oh, what’s this?” and I stopped eating for 2 days. 

While I was sitting there projecting emotions onto him, feeling bad about how he must be feeling for being so overweight-- he was feeling like he had sat next to someone he was going to mack on.  I don’t think he was worried or full of anxiety at all. 

Funny how you never know what someone else’s experience of the world is based on their appearance.  Outer trappings have nothing to do with the inner world.  He was fat and happy.  I was skinny and nervous.    As long as we recognize the divinity of our exchange, even as we inconvienience each other with the space we take up and the smells we bring, its all perfect.

I thank him for reminding me to never assume.  Everything we think we know is usually wrong.  To answer his question, Yes, I think heavy bald brothers are very dateable.  That might up the chances that skinny neurotic girls are dateable too. 

We ALL have something… We are ALL perfect and acceptable…

- Katie Rost