The 3rd of March. Spring should be in the air. The reduced circumstances of my underemployment dictates my mode of transportation, so I am shivering on a train platform on the way to visit my mother in the hospital. Travel time: three hours, one way.
It is 2 degrees outside and the guy standing next to me is wearing:
- a fur vest;
- a ninja mask; and
- a sword.
Of course, the ninja mask could simply be a measure against the gripping cold, and the sword is sheathed. So I'm not worried. Yet.
Fortunately, the ninja does not board the same train that I do. But a better fate awaits me. On my train is a couple of obstreperous BFFs (what is the correct plural form of an initialism?) who are having a conversation:
"Did you see that shit?"
"Yeah, they got a lot of new colors, and shit."
"And designer prints, and shit!"
"Guess who called me last night?"
"Oh, not him again! Shit! What did he say?"
"He was giving me attitude, and shit."
"Yeah, and I told him to have some respect, and shit."
Sitting next to the more presentable of the two young ladies is a young man, dressed in a fashion that could only be described as "classic Ali G". He is engaging in a conversation on his cell phone:
"Fuck, man, I gotta get off this phone. Yeah, I fuckin' know, man. Yeah, man, you know I don't fuck with you, man! You're my only fuckin' friend, man. Yeah, I fuckin' hear you, man. Fuck, man, yeah. I gotta get off this fuckin' phone, man, now! I'll call you fuckin' later. From my work phone. When you see that 800 number? That's me, man."
He hangs up. Leaving me to wonder where he could possibly be gainfully employed. And if he makes more money than I do.
The young lady next to him says brightly, "Well, that's settled!"
Which sets off an intense and - dare I surmise? - decidedly flirtatious conversation. In my fantasy world (see previous post), fuckin' love is born. And shit.
"Hey, I fuckin' love you!"
"That's good! 'Cuz I'm all pregnant, and shit."
"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I fuckin' do, man!"
"And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
And the scion of this splendid pairing:
"Daddy's fuckin' little baby girl!"
On a frigid morning during the worst winter in Chicago history - and these are no idle words - this is warming the cockles of my heart.
Can my hands and feet be far behind?