A man sitting one buffer seat away from me pours a beer into one of those large, convenience store Big Gulp cups. He attempted to sit down, take out the beer, open the cup and pour, all in one fluid motion. The jostled beer visibly and audibly fizzes as he opens it. He starts back when it first pops, but then continues as if to say things could have--in fact, probably have--gone worse. He gets beer on his hands, and a bit spills out onto the brown bag. Instantly, the whole corner smells like beer. Everybody notices but nobody moves. It is what it is. He knows we know, but he doesn't hang his head about it. He doesn't pretend nothing happened, either. Later he asks me for the time. Turns out his watch is a few minutes fast. He laughs at the small kids bickering. He checks his ticket about four times.
Suddenly, I find the 15 year-old with the Beiber cut across from me smooching the neck of his considerably taller and slightly larger girlfriend as she giggles more distracting than the man. That is what it is, too.
But seriously. Even Beiber dropped the Beiber cut.
No comments:
Post a Comment