Tons of bizarre behavior out there today – likely a) the after-effects of a brutal winter on the collective psyche, or, b) panic over the fact that there are only twelve shopping days left to score a “Kiss Me, I’m Marty Walsh” T-shirt.
Either way, it’s terrifying outside – particularly on the T. This morning on the Red Line, a fight almost broke out between a bearded dude who wanted a little elbow room to read some boring book, and a Cambridge cat lady who’d elbowed me on her way into the car, and then insisted on sticking her frass right in the bearded guys’ designated reading area. There were cross words and angry gestures and accusations of being grouchy in the morning and the like.
And then, a couple stops later, another bearded dude decided to start shouting about how everybody should cram just a little closer to let some people on the train – a suggestion that earned him a bunch of F-you looks from everybody except for the Cambridge cat lady. The pair immediately, and loudly, bonded over how awful all of humanity is, excepting the two of them.
Of course, all of that is trumped by this dispatch from the road I just received: “Puke all over our orange line car and people are standing in it.”