Yellow Balloon

I didn’t realize the German Olympic medalists came to Munich for a welcome ceremony until I stood next to a woman on the subway platform holding a yellow, oversized, helium balloon. Her backpack clinked with the sound of beer bottles plucked from the bustling surroundings at Marienplatz. I could tell it had been a good day’s work because a bottleneck poked out from the strained zipper and the Sammler of ridiculous objects, clearly beaming from all the attention, was carrying the grand prize.

There are certain things you don’t do during subway rush hour, like, bring a bicycle. You want your dog to hate you for a couple of days, step on the platform at 5pm. Moms with their 4×4 baby carriages are already home exhausted and the ones who missed the memo learn quickly after being serenaded with murderous screams from their offspring. From 430pm to 630pm, it’s sardine season and only the very lucky get nudged by a harpy with a buick backside wanting to take your seat although there is no room to stand up.

Those are the standard observations of rush hour tribulations. It always amazes me that someone could tack on one more “don’t” to the list. Don’t bring your mungo, buoyant exercise ball on the subway!

When the train arrived people packed into other doorways to avoid the Hindenburg. We all watched with half amusement when she met some resistance with the space between the door and the poll. What a pop it would make, ear drums would burst, the blood. The balloon just fit the carriage barely, oh damn.

As the train made it’s journey to Sendlinger Tor, two women of runway stature stood up to exit the train. There was a brief moment the models disappeared, ducking to the floor and emerged on the other side of the balloon pressing their bodies against the subway doors. The holder of the yellow orb made no apologies but did mention that she had been holding the hefty ball a better part of the day and wondered how she’d get the balloon into her apartment. As she said this one passenger poked a finger at the balloon and scratched it slightly perhaps in curiosity or contemplating a dubious plan of retaliation.

The train stopped and the doors flew open with a pull of the handle. The woman the entire time was never visible to me. With the jingle of her bottle stash and the sight of the yellow balloon slipping through the open air bouncing with delight, the woman was gone along with my silly distraction. The rest of the ride seemed mundane and the rest of the passengers were become once again aware of the “don’ts” in the carriage. Scowls ensued. Na, perhaps silly distractions should be allowed on the subway between 430pm and 630pm. What do you think?

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