The Writing's on the... Hand

Oh, right! I blog about my life in China and sometimes people read about it... right. About that.

On Wednesday, I was sitting on a bench in the metro station counting down the 7 minutes I had until the next train came. Since I had just missed the train, the station was fairly empty and so I sat there fiddling with things in my bad, putting on lip gloss and munching on carrot sticks out of a Ziploc container. The station slowly started to fill and the bench that I was sitting on quickly became crowded.

For some reason I started thinking of my 22nd birthday (I think it was 22) when Jessica and I drank a little (and then a little more) and went dancing at the (gasp!) Dome. The night was filled with ridiculous antics but the end of the night, when I passed out under her living room coffee table, left me laughing, snorting and faking a coughing fit in the middle of the Pudian Road station.

So, I took out a pen, added "E-mail Jess Re: Table" to the growing list of things to do on my left hand (I still haven't done this) and continued my wait. I began watching people in the reflection of the glass doors, which stop people from jumping in front of oncoming trains, that were in front of me. As I watched, I noticed the man next to me staring at me. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Then I noticed that he was craning his neck, to the point of throwing it out, so that he could see my left side (he was sitting on my right). I realized at this point that he was either trying to read, or was reading, my 'To Do' list on my left hand.

I debated my options: Turn around to look at him and smile. Adjust my body so that he could better see whatever he was trying to look at. Pick up my hand an explain each point in detail. Do nothing.

I silently laughed to myself, got up and waited by the doors for the train to arrive. When the train did arrive, I sat down and put my hands in my pocket.