Meat Me On The Orange Line or The Meat of Strangers

Despite the very busy stuff going on at work, I’ve an appointment that I have to attend to on a weekly basis. However, I had a bit of trouble getting out of the office today so I was running a bit late.

I caught the Green Line (forgive me, this is Boston lingo for our horrid little trolley/subway system) —- jumped off the Green Line at Park Street and ran to catch the Orange Line to take me to Harvard Square. Now, sometimes our trains are jam packed with people and other times there is just no one on them at all. Well, I jumped on the second train and it was me, a sleeping bum and an odd looking fellow. Naturally, the odd looking fellow opted to sit directly across from me. This was an older man. I would guess he was in his late 60’s. While I could tell that he had a nice brief case —- the only problem was that it was sort of stuffed into an old Marshall’s shopping bag along with a lot of other crap.

I turned up my walkman to top volume to drown out the sounds — which I could do the same for the smells! UGH! Anyway, I have FatBoySlim’s new song “Don’t Let The Man Get You Down” on continuous replay because I really like it.

So, I am trying to breath thru my mouth because I swear I could smell his every twitchy move. Despite my desire to not look at him, I was unable to not notice that the odd fellow was starting to shimmy about.

And, then it happened — our eyes met. Now, once your eyes meet another’s — things can get strange really fast. Keep in mind that this all happened quite quickly because the Park Street Station is very close to the next stop.

Before I could look away he was talking to me as I could see his lips move. I pretended not to notice and looked past him out at the passing tunnel. We were approaching the point in the tunnel when we come out into the open air of the Charles River Stop. He banged his feet hard on the floor of the train. It woke up the sleeping bum.

Then this fellow stood up, his pants fell to his ankles, his tongue came out, he shook his hips and his erect penis swished back and forth. …I write “swish” because everything looked way too moist!

Why me? This all I could think — the train emerged from the tunnel. The bum started yelling something at him. I was a little worried to move because I knew I would just die if that sad little diseased stump touched my person. The train stopped and I bolted out the door and ran to the first train.

I thought about reporting it, but then I thought, “why bother?” …so, approx 10 minutes later I stepped off the train at Harvard Square. I had to turn and look back at the second train. …and there he sat. …itching his crotch and yawning. It is no secret that I have been around the block more than a few times, but I don’t think I have ever been flashed.

Am I living in a John Water’s movie????

October 6, 2004. Uncategorized.

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