Yesterday I had to take the train into the city for a job interview. Since I usually drive everywhere taking the train seemed like an adventure. I couldn’t have been more right; it was definitely an adventure. As I walked to the platform (which I was really hoping there was an actual 9 and 3/4… just to be let-down) I saw a frumpy, tattered looking woman standing with what seemed to be 2 over-sized trash bags, duct taped together, with smaller grocery bags filled with cans, a soiled pillow, and Lord knows what else. I repeat, this woman was standing with bags in bags; she had bigger bags for here littler bags (that’s a lot of bags, what the hell else was in there?). I don’t think she was homeless or maybe I am sadly mistaken; but she did have some very un-bum-like clothing on. Is a pressed Polo shirt classified as bum-like? She was wearing a 1990’s weather-wore Bud Light beach towel as a skirt though…(if you haven’t noticed yet reading my blog, I make words up. Is “un-bum-like” a word or phrase? Comment below if you have thoughts on this). Why do all crazy people talk to themselves also? But hey, I try to look at it from another perspective though; she seemed happy and wasn’t bothering me. Maybe I am crazy and just can’t she her friends surrounding her?
What would do you were in unfamiliar territory, dressed in a suit and a crazy woman was winking at you while walking in your direction? I did the only thing a man can do, put in my IPod ear buds and backed up slowly trying not to make eye contact with her. It’s amazing how stupid I am sometimes; she’s not a T-Rex. Her vision is not based on movement. Luckily she wasn’t coming for me, shot me another wink and I smiled back. At the last second before she would have walked into me she turned to the help call box hung on the wall. Pushing the red button and screeching, “Mr. Richardson, when will the train be coming?” To no answer after a few seconds she yells again “Mr. Richardson do not make me lose my temper!” I start backing away slowly looking around to others on the platform shooting my “PLEASE HELP” eyes at them only to get a “FUCK YOU MAN” look back from all of them.
Crazy lady dropped her bags and in a screaming match with the wall phone as my train pulled into the station. I boarded the train and shot her a last glance to see what I was missing (it’s amazing how as soon as you are at safe gawking distances your eyes are glued to a train-wreck situation) and she literally had her “dukes” up, slap boxing with the help phone. When the doors on my train closed and we pulled away I saw security coming down the steps. I hope my new friend didn’t end up backing down and losing the fight versus that phone. And whoever Mr. Richardson is, in my opinion, he can go to hell.
Cheers! Comment below if you have a similar story or opinion and enjoy your weekend!
themanliestdolphin 