Living a Fantasy
Saturday, April 1, 2006 at 06:09AM Back in December, I wrote about my author fantasies, thinking that none of them would ever come true.
And, so far, none of my author fantasies involving Oprah, John Cusack, Scott Turow or Winona Ryder have come true.
But one of my author fantasies did, indeed, come true.
It happened yesterday. I’d caught the Southbound Purple Line Express, an “L” train that runs between Wilmette and Chicago, Illinois, at my usual spot, Foster Avenue, at my usual time, 3:14 PM., and sat in my usual seat, a single in the back that faces the aisle.
The train was empty except for a few other passengers, two of whom I usually see and abhor because of their excessive chatter, and one of whom I did not recognize, a woman, thirty-ish, I’d say, rather plain looking, who would not have caught my eye except for the fact that she was reading Lost in the Ivy, the book I wrote.
She, like me, sat facing the aisle, but in the opposite direction, so that I had a mostly unobstructed view of her. About ten feet separated us, as she was next to the door, in one of the double seats that you’re supposed to relinquish to handicapped or elderly persons.
She seemed oblivious to my staring and kept her eyes down, reading my book. One thing that I noticed was that she held the book in one hand, which I suppose is not all that unusual – except that she also used the fingers on that one hand to turn the pages. It was then that I realized that she did not have her other hand.
When the train stopped at the next station, Davis Street, a skinny, heavily-tattooed man with spiked, multi-colored hair, got on and took the seat next to the one-handed woman reading my book, blocking my view of her. Unlike her, he seemed to notice that my gaze was focused in that direction and I nervously turned my head and pretended to look out the window in back of me.
The reality was that I had probably less than five minutes before my stop. What was I to do? I’d written about this scenario before, and thought of various possibilities:
- Do nothing.
- Ask her what she’s reading and if she likes it.
- Tell her, “You’re reading my book.”
- Ask her to look at the author photo on the back.
- Ask if she would like to have the author sign the book she’s reading.
If I waited for my stop to get up, there wouldn’t be enough time to have any kind of meaningful conversation. So at the next stop, Dempster Street, I stood and walked toward the doors and came to a stop right next to the one-handed woman reading my book.
I glanced down, with a slight smile on my face, hoping that she’d look up. But she kept her head down in my book.
I said, “Excuse me,” but it got no reaction from her.
“That’s my book you’re reading,” I said, my heart starting to race a bit as we approached the next station, Main Street. My words garnered a glare from the punk next to her but the one-handed woman didn’t budge.
Finally, as the train headed toward my stop, I tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and I said, “That’s my book.”
She stared for a moment and then shook her head and rather tentatively raised her one hand and pointed to her right ear. It was then that I realized that she was deaf.
I smiled as the train came to a stop. Just before walking out, I tapped the back of the book, where there was a picture of me.
She looked at me and then turned the book to the back cover. As the doors closed behind me, I glanced over my shoulder and saw her through the window. I saw her make the connection and raise her head just as the train pulled away.
Randy Richardson
The story above is all fiction. None of it happened – except for the part about me taking the train home every day at the same time and sitting in the same seat. But you knew that, right? Or did you fall for my April Fool’s joke?
If you figured out that the story was fiction, at what point did you realize it? Did you continue reading until the end, knowing that the story was not true? If you believed the story all the way through what were your thoughts about it? Please share your comments below.
What was the point of this exercise? At one level it was just for fun. I'd conceived the idea for it shortly after writing the original blog entry about my author fantasies and then decided to hold off on posting it until April Fool's Day. At another level, however, this exercise was intended to demonstrate that when you write fiction, while you may not always see your fantasies come true, you can always bring them to life. And that makes for a pretty rich world.
Reader Comments (12)
Being from California, nothing surprizes me anymore so I was totally hooked! Its like the time I ran over a woman's dog, whose name was "Tiny", killed it dead. Then I found out the woman, who I thought was homeless because she was old and had a doo rag on her head, was actually a teacher on disability who was going through Chemo and had lost her hair. And I killed the one thing that had kept her going for the last 7yrs. Who would believe it?
I do have a strong feeling you'll be sitting on Oprah's couch one day!
Switch to taking the Red line going south to the city (start your trip at Howard). This would increase the chances of "unique" riders 1,000%. Purple line (North of Howard) is mostly Northwestern students/medical people, people going to Cubs games, or Teens going to the city.
Hmmm...if we used a teenager and Randy was staring at a teenager reading his book...this would be a stocker story!
I wonder if his story was made up too?
I didn't read the Keillor column. That's pretty wild that he wrote something very similar. Now if only I made his kind of money.
Randy
Now what will happen when your blog tells your loyal readers of a REAL traveler reading "Lost in the Ivy" on the train? Will we believe it???? Clearly, from the comments already posted, we will fall for anything!
I still believe it.