The Train Story

So another one of my very good friends and for a while my housemate during medical school was someone I'll call VM for Vikey McStoner. VM and I first really got to know each other going snowboarding. We quickly founded a friendship that started on a common ground of big mountain snowboarding, painkillers and a lot of weed.

The train story starts with a girl. This girl we'll call FG because well, she's a girl from France. I like FG, nice lady, nice looking, used to wear these boots with flowers painted on them that I really enjoyed. Now she's working as a doctor in an Emergency Room somewhere, but whatever. So DT went out with FG on a couple of, sort of, dates. I still give him shit because his experience with her sort of belies his complete lack of game. I remember he came back once after going out with FG and told this story about going back to her place, not making his move in the proper manner and somehow ending up hiding in her bushes from some combination of shame and regret.

Maybe I should start telling nicer stories about DT though. Because regardless of what I've written on this blog about him, I swear he's a good guy. It's just that I happen to know a lot of his secrets.

Anyways, that's a brief synopsis of DT's story with FG. Some time later, it was VM's turn to try and plow FG. They just finished a nice dinner and were taking a moonlit stroll when VM attempted to turn on his charm, full blast. At what should have been an otherwise lovely moment, the train rolled by blaring it's horn. VM couldn't quite hear what FG was trying to say, and so she had to repeat herself. In trying to raise her voice about the din of the train, the horn stopped blaring and FG could be heard by the entire city to yell, "I DON'T DATE!"

We still don't know what that story means. But between VM and myself, we've told it a lot. And at occasional embarassing moments in our lives, that's why we are prone to yell those words. To honor that horribly, horribly soul-crushing moment in VM's life.