Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

When it comes to inspiration, there's just something about trains...especially when you sit by the window. Maybe it's the motion, rocking and shimmying along. It could be the white noise, or its visual counterpart flying by outside.

Maybe it's the sensation of being surrounded by others with no expectation of explicit socialization. That could check some typically-ignored biological box of humanity - They say we are a highly social species, right?

For me, I think it's the endless stories. I've been picking them up and telling them in my head as long as I can remember. These days, I'm sharing them in the real world, too.

Trains are bursting with stories. They're in every person sitting around you, doubly so for those together, as what are relationships, really, but stories in their own right?

They're in every building you pass, especially the ones with boards nailed over the windows or cracks in the foundation. Every passing car... train or auto. Every piece of trash nestled in dead leaves or crammed tightly into plastic bags heaped curbside.

You'll never escape the stories that make up the world, but especially so on the train. I whittle away the time searching for the seeds of new fiction, planted in a passing glance, an outfit, or the corner of a book peeking from someone's purse. Teasing them from a hairstyle or the beats of headphones, letting each little kernel expand before colliding, converging into something new, something bigger.

Conflicts, characters, expositions, epilogues - building blocks of stories - they're all there, if you're paying attention.

When I was younger, I took a bus into New York City nearly every weekend. My boyfriend (now husband) would meet me on the other side. We were long distance back then.

The bus was always crowded. Most people spent the first thirty minutes, in which everyone boarded across four or five stops, doing whatever they could to discourage others from sitting with them in their dual seat. Bags were stashed on empty chairs, legs spread, eyes closed in deep fake sleeps... You really see it all after a while.

At first, I was one of those people. My move was the aggressive fake cough, because nobody wants to get sick, especially from some rando on the bus. But after a while, I was forced to accept that nine times out of ten I'd share my seat, and there really wasn't much to do about it.

So I changed my approach, and with it, the nature of most of my bus rides to come.

I started picking up a six pack of beers on the way to the bus (don't worry - alcohol was allowed on board). Then, instead of striving for that unicorn solo seat, I'd purposely sit with whichever passenger looked most interesting to have a beer with. I'd offer them a drink, and enjoy the ride.

I heard so many stories over those years. I met so many fascinating people who I otherwise never would have spoken to. I learned about people's upbringings and relationships, where they were going and where they came from. You'd be surprised how open people are with a stranger on the bus who they will never see again.

It was so much better than fake coughing my way into the inevitable disappointment of sitting with someone I didn't choose for the next few hours.

I don't talk to people like that anymore. Maybe it's because I hardly drink now, and that type of conversation flows so much more naturally over a beer. Or maybe I just value my alone time (and silence) a lot more now that I'm a stay at home mom of small kids.

Regardless - trains, buses, planes - They're all filled with stories for anyone who wants to see them. If you're stuck on that unfortunate street we call writer's block, or unsure where to begin your first tale, or really just in the market for any inspiration, buy a ticket. Take a ride. Look around.

Bonus points if you make conversation. But that's not required. All you really need to do is open your eyes.

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