This morning seemed to be teeming with those poor humans afflicted with rather severe psychological disorders. I suppose it’s the nice weather that brought them out of their crazy caves in the forest preserves.
There was a man, wearing all white mind you, on the Metra train this morning holding a very large clear plastic bag against the top of his head. He was holding this large bag, sitting next to a pretty woman too, as if he was protecting himself against the powerful thought ray satellites clearly operating in the skies above. I guess he was out of tinfoil hats. He also seemed to be holding his breath for most of the train ride as he kept gasping every few minutes. Now all of this was strange but it had yet to get weird.
As the train pulled into the downtown station, this bearded, gray haired, white wearing, plastic bag clutching against his head guy stood up and abandoned the large plastic bag on an empty train seat next to him. He continued to cover his head with his hand however as the regular commuters and I shuffled toward the exit. As we neared the doors this man looked into the train garbage can and pulled out a small section of discarded newspaper, which he then used to cover the top of his head.
He rushed off the train clearly agitated with the large crowds. He started running toward the train station exit, still holding the newspaper firmly against the top of his head. The other commuters and I sort of looked at each other and acknowledged that whatever crap we had going on in our lives, we weren’t that guy.
Things seemed to continue on this strange path as I walked toward the building I work in. I passed a couple, holding hands as they walked, that seemed all wrong. The man was wearing a Crown Royal purple velvet bag from his belt. He was on his cell phone too, which he proceeded to place in his regular pocket, not the Crown Royal bag as I half expected him to. I walked by them too fast to really catch any conversation or get further involved in what was going on there.
I got to work and was sitting in my cube, trying to do the things I have to do. The normal day to day nonsense that provides me with a paycheck when my cubicle neighbor started clipping his fingernails at his desk.
“Can’t you do that at home”, I said.
“Are you talking to me”, he responded.
“Yes. Can you please not do that here; It’s gross”, I said.
My colleague got very upset with my request and felt that I was somehow being rude for requesting that he not clip his fingernails at his desk. I don’t remember what he said after that as I was on the phone, but he kept talking and talking. I said, verbatim, “I’d appreciate if you would do that somewhere else, in the bathroom perhaps”.
He’s mad at me now and I don’t care. My other co-workers cheered me on under their breath and gave me the thumbs up for saying something. Clearly it’s bothered other people before. So who’s crazy, me for saying something or him for clipping his fucking fingernails at his desk?
There must be something in the air today.