The Lady and the Tram: The Man on the Bus
The Lady and the Tram: A Question and Phlegmy man.
A question:
If you're sitting on a crowded tram and a young man with a broken arm gets on, do you offer him your seat?
I have decided to set some criteria for this:
This morning a few people on the 55 tram were full of mucus.
PHLEGM clogging up the nostrils, throats & lungs plagued my fellow public transportians.
One man who was sitting on the seat to my right across the passage had it the worst. This man had holes in his jumper and his shoes were all worn out, but he did not smell homeless so...?
Anyway, his lungs were a phlegmy mess. He had an inhaler which he would deeply suck in, then he would splutter and cough and phlegm-about (new verb?) all over himself. He was an older guy, but not really old. I think he looked older than he was.
From the moment he sat down across from me, he stared at me. The really rude uncomfortable stare. Like he's looking at me and he is not going to look away. He just continued to stare at me. Thankfully the tram became more crowded and his stare was broken by people filling up the passage between us.
One man, who was quite tall, got on the tram. I would describe him as a business dad. So he's a Dad, but he was wearing a suit jacket, so he was businessy.
He was holding something in his hand and because he was standing and I was sitting, what he was holding was swinging closely to my face.
As the Tram began to clear out, Old Phlegm Starer was still to my right. He had stopped staring at me (not for long though) and was interested in the people sitting in front from him. A male and a female who looked between 20-25. The female was wearing a school girl-esque outfit. The male was wearing a cheap suit jacket from the nineties and jeans (also cheap & nineties looking). They were a bit weird. When they got on the tram it was really quiet (aside from the snuffling & coughing up of mucus), so they made popping sounds and started to whistle. Whatever.
SO ANYWAY. Old "Phlegm AStare" decided to make conversation with them. I started to hear his mumblings and managed to hear him say "It's what's in the murder box that matters..." to which the weird people said "yep ok mmhmm" and at that point ceased any further contact.
He starts staring again. I pretend I can't see him. He looks away and says in an old scary monotone voice "Look around, leaves are brown, there's a patch of snow on the ground".
If you're sitting on a crowded tram and a young man with a broken arm gets on, do you offer him your seat?
I have decided to set some criteria for this:
You should offer your seat to a young man with a broken arm when:
- He has lots of bags or 1 heavy bag. Having bags is awkward when you can use only one arm.
- He is having trouble balancing.
- He is giving you evil eyes and using mind powers to make you give him your seat.
PHLEGM clogging up the nostrils, throats & lungs plagued my fellow public transportians.
One man who was sitting on the seat to my right across the passage had it the worst. This man had holes in his jumper and his shoes were all worn out, but he did not smell homeless so...?
Anyway, his lungs were a phlegmy mess. He had an inhaler which he would deeply suck in, then he would splutter and cough and phlegm-about (new verb?) all over himself. He was an older guy, but not really old. I think he looked older than he was.
From the moment he sat down across from me, he stared at me. The really rude uncomfortable stare. Like he's looking at me and he is not going to look away. He just continued to stare at me. Thankfully the tram became more crowded and his stare was broken by people filling up the passage between us.
One man, who was quite tall, got on the tram. I would describe him as a business dad. So he's a Dad, but he was wearing a suit jacket, so he was businessy.
He was holding something in his hand and because he was standing and I was sitting, what he was holding was swinging closely to my face.
 |
| That's just cruel man. |
SO ANYWAY. Old "Phlegm AStare" decided to make conversation with them. I started to hear his mumblings and managed to hear him say "It's what's in the murder box that matters..." to which the weird people said "yep ok mmhmm" and at that point ceased any further contact.
He starts staring again. I pretend I can't see him. He looks away and says in an old scary monotone voice "Look around, leaves are brown, there's a patch of snow on the ground".
The Lady & The Tram; The Screaming Man
The Screaming Man was on my tram today.
He didn't scream as much as last time, he rocked back and forth on his seat and shook his head from side to side, then made some garbled sounds and pointed in front of him as if he was getting someone in trouble.
He was on the 55 Tram once before.
I had sleep walked onto the tram as I do every morning and settled in to a mind numbing staring competition with whatever was in front of me, probably a pole.
Then I heard him scream for the first time.
I thought someone had been stabbed, or an appendix had burst, or the love of his life left him for another man (possibly his brother or a rockstar), whilst simultaneously she split his head open with an axe.
None of those things happened. It sounded like it. I've never heard a more heart wrenching sound.
His scream was not high pitched, it was like a deep manly shout, but it was long.
Like he was dying in pain & terror.
It sounded like hurt and sadness and desperation and it was really, really, really loud.
I was so frightened I nearly punched the guy sitting next to me.
I didn't.
He was scrawny, lanky, he wore a cap, his skin was grey & dull. It looked like his diet consisted of cardboard and maybe cockroaches, (you know, for protein). He had big glasses underneath his cap, I think his pale blue/grey eyes looked in seperate directions. His tightly clenched teeth were yellow and crooked. He looked old, but he had no wrinkles.
Then he screamed again, and again.
When his screams stopped momentarily, he would rock back & forth, stamp his feet, mutter incoherent words, shake his head, clench his teeth and his neck, raise his hands and hit himself in the head.
Then he would scream again and again. Loud, Painful, Heartbreaking. Sad.
He reminded me a little bit of my brother Joey, when he is upset.
Joey is a great big 24 year old happy-go-lucky guy, he also has Autism.
Joey is kind hearted, compassionate and very friendly. But when he is upset he can yell and throw things and he can be a bit scary if you don't understand what's going on. He is a good kind person who literally has no control over his actions sometimes. People do not understand him. People are threatened by him. My goofy funny friendly brother.
Joey is nowhere near as scary as this guy
it's just sometimes when he shouts it's that same uncontrollable, misunderstood loud noise that has so much feeling behind it you know?
This screaming man is terrifying.
At one point, he stood up, walked up right next to me, looked out the window and screamed.
I was petrified.
At one point, he stood up, walked up right next to me, looked out the window and screamed.
I was petrified.
I was "acting casual" with sheer terror shooting through my body.
I didn't want to look afraid incase I hurt his feelings.
He stayed next to me, looking out the window, screaming.
He arrived at his stop and went shouting off down the street.
I didn't want to look afraid incase I hurt his feelings.
He stayed next to me, looking out the window, screaming.
He arrived at his stop and went shouting off down the street.
he sounded violent and threatening and scary and loud.
But I think he is harmless.
My fear turned into sadness.
I wanted to give him a hug so that he would stop punching himself.
I wanted to ask if he was okay.
Keep this in mind if you think someone is scary.
Maybe the fear is not of the screaming man, but the fact that you do not understand him.
My fear turned into sadness.
I wanted to give him a hug so that he would stop punching himself.
I wanted to ask if he was okay.
Keep this in mind if you think someone is scary.
Maybe the fear is not of the screaming man, but the fact that you do not understand him.