Three days a week I ride the CalTrain to my job. Usually it’s lovely. The train is clean and comfortable, and my ride is long enough to get a bit of reading or writing done, but not too long to be boring. In the mornings it’s very quiet, and not too noisy in the evenings (except when there’s a baseball game, and then it’s douche central).
One day after work last week the trains had major delays. Signal problems, I guess? Whatever the reason, all the trains were backed up by 20 or 30 minutes. We were waiting and waiting, and I ended up chatting with a couple of people. Nearby was a drunk guy, but he was far enough away that we could ignore him. Then suddenly he was talking to us.
Oy.
As he was drunk, he didn’t make much sense. “This place is filthy!” he kept saying. “I wear flip-flops and my feet are black!”
Then maybe you shouldn’t wear flip-flops.
“I have to get pedicures and facials every week!”
Uhhh. . .
“In Miami I don’t have this problem.”
Then maybe you should go back to Miami.
“I’m a real man. I could kick anyone’s ass.”
Before or after your facial and pedicure?
“We grew up poor! We had a cardboard box for a table.”
No one asked but okay.
While he ranted, I tweeted about him.
Eventually he went away, much to our relief, and that was the end of him.
Or so I thought.
Yesterday I was walking back from the gym in the rain. I had neglected to bring my umbrella, and was holding the hood of my rain jacket tight around my neck. I was waiting to cross the street when this guy next to me said, “Keeping it closed like that’s not gonna keep you dry. Just leave it open.”
And it was the drunk guy from the CalTrain.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
He was wearing the same exact outfit: black sweater, jeans, and (yes) flip-flops. And he was drunk again. Or still. Who knows.
Keep in mind I saw this guy in the town where I work, and then again three days later a block from my apartment.
“Did he follow you?” MB asked, all concerned.
Highly doubt it. I’m surprised the guy was lucid enough to make it into San Francisco. Plus he obviously didn’t recognize me, and immediately after his comment, ran off to try and steal this woman’s cab.
Let’s hope he’s on his way back to Miami.