Advice from a Train.

For those of you who don't know, my wife and I recently sold our home in East Millcreek and moved out to the suburbs of Sandy, UT. In doing so, I've discovered the joys of public transportation, specifically the TRAX service provided by the Utah Transit Authority. With a station only three minutes from our house, it's become a great alternative to the otherwise road rage-influenced rush hour I-15 commute. Additionally, the savings on gas is borderline inconceivable (I've only had to fill up my car twice in the two months I've lived out here). Plus, the 25-minute post work wind down has done miracles for my state of sanity.

But there is one thing that trumps all the aforementioned. One advantage that does more for me than all others combined.

The people watching.

You see, the train is no discerner of persons. It'll shuttle a 40-something nutjob in camo fatigues who's on his way to threaten his former employer with a butter knife and a screwdriver just as well as a sweet 80-something grandmother who's on her way to offer praise at the Mormon Temple. The girl who doesn't say a word, let alone even make eye contact with anyone rides the train as well as the guy who plops right down next to you and says, "Hey, how's it going? I've got a giant growth happening between my buddy sack and back door right now. Itches like a mother!"

Yup, it truly is a melting pot of folk.

Or fertile ground as I like to call it. Fertile ground, you ask? Yes, fertile ground. For my new project, Advice From a Train - A book containing pages of advice from would-be, non-participating train commuters. It's simple really. Here's how it works. Whenever I encounter someone of interest, I simply hand them the journal and ask them to fill a page with their life advice (and anything else they might find particularly interesting and/or noteworthy). It's an empty page. Fill it with wisdom.

When it's all said and done, I should have a great myriad of advice from some of this planet's most peculiar. If that collection can't assist me in answering life's most perplexing questions, I don't know what can.