Last night on the T

Last night on the T. The Orange Line. It's crowded, and we're pulling into Back Bay. I'm standing. Hell, most of us are standing. And a woman who's been fidgeting the whole time starts to move to the door as we pull into the station. Or, rather, as we lurch into the station. It's really annoying. You're trying to keep your balance with one hand and a briefcase in the other, or in my case a briefcase and a duffle in the other, and some people just compound the discomfort.

"I'm getting off here," she said, trying to push by before the train has stopped.

"So am I," I said, stopping her. "And so's half this train," I added.

I've never understood this behavior of my fellow commuters. The door is right there. It's not like the train is that packed and the door is that far away, and even if it is, I've never seen anyone get trapped on a train. But they act like they've got five seconds to get off before a bomb is going to explode. Maybe it's some kind of weird city neurosis, kind of like claustrophobia with a bit of OCD thrown in for good measure.

But I've reached the point in my life where I just say things. I'm starting to understand about old age, not that I'm old or even feeling that old, but you just get this "I don't give a damn" attitude, and let me tell you, it feels really good.

I used to care about so many things in my life. But I hit a spot, and I just don't give a damn anymore about a lot of things.