So basically I spent the entire day on BART today, for a number of reasons. First, I pretty much had to go and get all heartbroken last night, so this morning I had to go to my retail therapy appointment down in Union Square. So, I went down there, then came back, then went to Ritual in the Mission which is way far from Union Square, then I went back to Union Square, and then I forgot what I was doing there, so I went to Berkeley. The distance I clocked today is roughly the same if I'd been in New York and decided to take two back to back trips to Montauk, or if I lived in Chicago and decided to visit Evanston a few times in one day, or if I lived in Miami and thought I'd really like to take a cruise to Alaska for the day. Really, it all made sense in the moment.
Near the end of my Bay Area exodus, I had this entirely painful and humiliating experience with this guy wearing light-wash jeans. And not just any light-wash jeans, these were the kind that he wore with a big belt and tucked his long sleeved buttoned-down shirt into. So he was basically nearly 40 and hadn't found a woman who could straighten him out and keep him from doing that whole ensemble ever again.
So there I am occupying the handicapped seat as I am apt to do, and
this guy comes and stands his camel toed nutsack in my face while he
studies the map behind my head. He just stood there, hands on hips and
legs all spread out like he was bracing himself for a fly ball, and yet
a fly ball did not come to him. Instead, he was so intent on
maintaining his locked leg stance in my face that when the train came
to a sudden halt he literally flung himself into my face. And I am
entirely serious and forthright when I say that his belt buckle CLINKED
on my front teeth.
This man's tight-jeaned crotch was right there in my face on the
train, and all these people didn't even look up to notice it! I mean,
you'd think the man has just become a pillar of the public
transportation system and acted as some kind of crotch-in-face mascot
everyday during peak commuting hours. And what's worse is that this man
had absolutely no balance and had to literally crawl himself up off the
wall to remove his crotch from my face. And even then all he said to me
was, "Sorry." Yeah, SORRY is right buddy! Thanks for chipping my tooth
with your belt buckle! Like I haven't had that happen before!
The moral of the story is, light-wash jeans. Uh, is it 1997 again?
