Free At Last!!!

Unfortunately I don't have anything particularly scandalous to report about or about BarBri or about our student reps. I do, however, have a funny story about how, on my way home, I thought I pretty much secured my seat in Hell, but later realized that God instead saw fit to punish me here.

The best thing about riding the train in the middle of the afternoon - really, the only redeeming part - is that everyone gets their own 2 or 3 seater, and everybody sits quietly, either sleeping or reading the paper. As we pulled in to Elizabeth, NJ, I noticed a blind man on the platform, waiting for the train. What I didn't know yet is that this was the worst blind man in the world. You know how when you see a blind person getting around, it's usually really impressive? Not so much with this guy. The first thing he did was walk right into the side of the stopped train - I mean, like, nose-against-the-window "into the side of the stopped train."

I couldn't help it: I laughed out loud. God apparantly heard me and saw fit to smite me.

The blind man stumbled onto the train. I presume he was just feeling his way around the aisle seats, because he walked past the first two rows of seats, where people were sitting next to the aisle, and into my seat... because I was sitting against the window. I presume that he thought he was getting into a 2 seater, and not a 3 seater, by the way he catapulted himself into it. But I'm not sure what was his basis for concluding that the whole seat was empty though, but I do know that he was extraordinarily heavy, that the inside wall of the train in extraordinarily hard, and that he basically crushed me between the two of them.

You know how you hear about people deprived of one sense, have stronger other senses than the rest of us? Apparantly the loss of his vision only enhanced his ability to comfortably talk at an unnecessarily loud volume. As soon as he removed himself from my lap, he removed his cell phone from his shirt pocket and placed a phone call. I also gathered from his conversation that he probably, in addition to being blind, was developmentally challe.... retarded. He just kept repeating himself at the top of his voice. I guess he plays in some kind of music ensemble in Elizabeth and was talking about some piece he was working on. "Yes, that would be nice because it would keep me honest. Ha! What? No, honest. Honest, right. No, it would keep me honest. Right. Honest. You? No, me. Honest. Right. I said it would keep me honest. Yes, honest. Honest. No, honest. Yes."

So anyway, he ended his conversation, put his phone back in his shirt pocket, and began singing to himself. Not lyrics, or even a melody. Just a non-sensical series of "beep[s]," and "boo[s]," and "boop[s]," and "bah[s]," in his falsetto voice. If you don't know what a falsetto voice is, it's the voice, for example, that a guy might talk in if he was doing a crude impression of a woman... that fake, higher pitched voice than he normally talks in. If you wanna know how I know what a falsetto voice is, read Hey, Hey, HEY!

I kind of started to doze off until his cell phone rang. Actually, it wasn't the ring that woke me up; it was the way he answered it. He had on of those walking sticks that blind people carry, that folds like 4 times into a shorter stick. Well apparantly, it came a little unfolded and opened, so that even though he thougt he was holding all four shorter lengths, he was only holding 3. The fourth - the one that would be the very end if the stick was unfolded, was stuck between the seat back and the seat cushion. And when his phone rang, it startled him, and he flinched really hard. He swung his hand that was holding the stick, up in the air... but since the end of his stick was stuck, it didn't give right away... but when it did, it snapped up in the air and caught me under the chin... really, really hard.

"Excuse me," he said to me, "Hello," he screamed into his phone.

He ended that conversation quickly, but as we pulled into New Brunswick, and I was still massaging the sensation back into my lower jaw, I realized that we were both getting off at the same stop. He got off the train and walked right into a railing, nowhere near the stairs he was looking for. "Can I help you," I offered, certain and correct that this would backfire somehow.

"That would be nice," he replied in a normal volume, confirming my unannounced suspicion that his gift for talking too loud only applied in closed spaces. I reached to grab his wrist so I could guide him to the stairs, but not content to be held by his wrist, he grabbed my hand... fingers interlaced. Faced with being publicly branded either "that older retarded blind man's nice younger lover," or "that arrogant piece of shit who refused to help the older retarded blind man," I bit my lip and walked him to the stairs, avoiding eye contact with everyone on the platform.

Anyway, this is taking longer to write than I thought it would, and I need to get back to studying, so I'm not gonna waste any more time trying to think of a lesson or some other nice way to wrap it up. But if you have a nice or funny way to do it, post it in a comment.

And then get back to studying. I think this test is really soon.