Regis

Regis first caught my attention on the late train home last night when the young girl sitting across from me got up to leave the train and said something to him. I couldn’t make out what it was she said but she was clearly upset with him. It seemed like maybe she wanted him to get off the train with her. But then it seemed like she absolutely didn’t want him to. I couldn’t tell if they even knew each other or if Regis was going to get his ass kicked later by her older brother.

So after she got off at her stop, I scooted over and asked if I could take his picture. While we chatted I asked him about the exchange he’d had with the girl earlier.

“Oh, that’s my girl. She’s mad at me and I didn’t wanna talk about it.”

I don’t know what they were fighting about but he obviously had a lot on his mind.

Ah, young love. I can only hope they get it all sorted out… and that no one gets their ass kicked.

Louis

Louis sits almost perfectly still while the train car rocks under him, his eyes fixed to the page. Occasionally he lifts his hand to turn the page, periodically flipping back to re-read a passage from his Mormon scriptures for reference.

I don’t know where Louis works or even what he does for a living. I only know he rides the train almost every day to save gas and miles on his car. And when he rides, he reads.

Brent Atkinson

Brent Atkinson is that easy-going guy that lives down the street. The one that’s always there when you have a load of topsoil that needs unloading or a palette of sod that needs laying. He’s the sort of guy you just know you could trust to do your taxes. Which is fortunate for him because that’s exactly what Brent does for a living. Taxes, not topsoil and sod.

"I run my iPhone on T-Mobile so I haven't upgraded to the new one yet", he confessed with a sly grin.

He tells me he has about 200 private tax clients right now. Probably all friends of friends, I’d bet. And everyone of them would probably trust him to babysit the kids or borrow their Lexus too. But every morning, he still rides his bike to the train and stands at the end of the car for the ride to work at one of the large downtown firms. Or, as he jovially refers to them, “the man.”

No Brent, YOU are the man.

Alex Barber

Alex Barber rides the train every morning, just as he has since he was a sophomore in high school. He rides from near his parents’ house in Sandy to where he catches a bus to Salt Lake Community College in West Valley.

“I like riding the train”, he told me, “It’s a free ride plus I never have to deal with traffic.”

When I met him, Alex was carrying a sketch pad that he told me he uses in class. He’s 18 now and a first-year architecture major.