Tales From MUNI

Two weeks ago, I got aboard the NJudah and made my way to work. At Sunset Boulevard a girl sat next to me. Score, especially since she was rather thin and not smelly. I think we can agree that although we will sit next to the musky man muttering, we prefer a semi-normal being to share seat space.

Then it started. She started playing with her hair. Combing her hands through her long brown locks over and over until there was a stray single hair on her shirt, or pants or coat that she would carefully excise from its location. Bringing it forward, she would would flick her fingers until the hair fell between her knees to the floor. She was grooming herself as if she were a monkey the entire way until Montgomery Street, which was at least 50 minutes.

I sat reading my Kindle getting the side vision of what she was doing. As she succeeded in pick and flick number ten, I began to get annoyed, but more importantly disgusted. How can you possibly believe this is okay to do on public transportation? I thought it had to be a nervous tick of some sort, and then how sad it was this person will never marry. I wanted to shake her, but instead adjusted my vision so that it was impossible to bear witness to the abhorent action. I covered my eyes with my hand, essentially making a blinder. But every so often into my field of vision there it was - a hand releasings its find. Finally the speaker announced “Montgomery Station”, whack-a-doo off boarded and I breathe a sign of relief.

Is this normal? Was my reaction normal? I don’t know. Believe me for some reason things do get under my skin and make me insane - like open cabinet doors, or curtains, or vodka bottles. I kid, that last one is kind of awesome. But holy cow, Ms. Hair Extractor 2011, you top them all. Please do me the favor of never sitting with me again for I will gladly take psychotic bi-polar off his meds bearded clam smelling man, at least he's normal.