last night after class i hopped on the redline at porter square just like the ending to any other evening spent at school. so as my classmate Ny and i sat chatting, at harvard square a rather scruffy looking guy carrying what appeared to be a surfboard wrapped in garbage bags and holding a mangled starbucks cup just barely made it on the train before the doors slammed shut.
ok, whatever- as long as he's not going to try to sit on either of our laps we pretty much ignore him and chat on.
and then i can hear him muttering-
and he opens his elastic-waist sweatpants, puts his head down and proceeds to throw up into his own pants.
at which point i turn to Ny (who is mid-sentence) and say 'uh we've got a little situation over there and need to move NOW.' we were down at the other end of the car in no time. and at the next station Ny got off and i switched cars. problem solved.
i'm kinda left wondering if perhaps the T should reconsider their decision to fit some of the cars with new fabric seats. yeah the old black vinyl ones get tore up after a while and are a little uncomfortable in july, but at least they can be hosed down from time to time. lordy knows mister man didn't manage to capture all of his liquidbits in his own pants (although we must give him credit for his valiant effort). it's not like you can febreeze that shit.
i say keep the vinyl seats. please.
anyways- two stops later at charles mgh this well put together but very shitfaced woman gets on the train and comes stomping down the middle of the car with her cellphone extended out at arms-length like she's trying to pick up a signal and/or is reliving a scene from flashdance. cellphone out, arm up she staggers and stomps all the way to the end of the car and proceeds to walk straight into the emergency exit door with a large THUD. she staggered a few steps in reverse and then got a death grip on one of the poles and made kissy/fixing-my-lipstick-faces at her own reflection the rest of the way to south station.
and it wasn't even a full moon last night.