train station guy (now with a picture)

The other day as I leave work and approach the York Street train station, a guy comes up to me and says “You live off the Myrtle stop right?”

I answer in the affirmative, confused that a stranger is talking to me, concerned that he knows where I live. Turns out he recognized me, but not by the things most people recognize me by; not the brightly colored hair, the (currently invisible) tattoos, or even my sweet pretty face.

He knew me by my backpack. This is not such an odd duck because I can normally be seen carrying a giant pink Jansport backpack, with black sharpee-drawn checkers and a green Mini logo pinned to the middle. You won’t see another like it.

He introduced himself as Jake, led me to believe I had the makings of a new friend, then quite literally, ran away. It would seem that he wanted to catch his train, but I was catching the same train and made it fine by walking leisurely.

I think he mostly wanted to brag that he had met me. “You see that chick with the backpack? Yeah I know her. I could go talk to her to prove it, but I don’t want to.” Then all his little hipster friends would be über-impressed, because I am truly worth knowing.

**ps - I changed the name of this blog from "potential stalker" to "train station guy" because people were getting the wrong idea and giving me self -defense advice (which I don't need, thanks to my martial arts training) and worrying about me a little too much. This guy is not actually stalking me. He just lives near me and happened to see me at another train station.