Blood all aboil this morning kids.
Like you don't even know.
You read this blog....you know me...I'm not the confrontational sort. Really I'm not. Live and let live I say.
Or at least try to say....
Let me explain....I hate the fact that when I ride the train on my way to and from work, I have to endure the trash left behind by others. Food containers. Empty coffee cups. Wrappers of all assortments. Newspapers. And keep in mind I have to take TWO trains to get to work, and two to get home, making my connecting change in beautiful downtown Camden, NJ.
So....cut scene to this morning...theres this guy, I'd say late 50's, who I see all the time. Caucasian, brush cut hair, military cut to the corners of the mouth mustache, and this air of superiority about him. Now, know this, he's not homeless. Judging by his clothing he is a business man of some sort. I know, you're thinking, "Wow...he notices this guy? Really?"....keep in mind, I see him on average 6-7 times a week. He stands out. See, two things about him are very obvious....they make him very noticeable.
First...he usually sits in the same area whenever he gets on the train. Among one of the same 4-6 seats, so much so that when he gets on the train and see those seats occupied, he has this habit of standing there for a few moments and staring at the passengers in that area as if they are in HIS spot. HIS seat. And usually with a loud sigh and much muttering he goes off to find someplace else to sit.
Second...as soon as he sits down, he pulls out the equivalent of two reams of printer paper and begins reading. Having had the occasion of sitting next to him in the past, on more crowded commutes, I know what it is....printed out online news stories. ABC.com, NBC.com, CNN.com...you name it, he prints it all out and reads it on the train.
Now the reason this sticks with me, is all I can wonder is, "Who wastes that much paper?" This stories are ONLINE....by their very nature they do not require the wasting of paper. It seems...well....stupid.
But, live and let live I say.
Or at least try to say....
This morning, I get on the train as usual, 2 stops ahead of his, and joy of joys, I'm treated to his usual show. He gets on, sees a mother and child in HIS seats, mutters something or other (I couldn't hear, I had Sevendust playing in my skull at that moment), and decides instead to take a vacant seat in the aisle across from me. Then his meaty paw dives into this cluttered and overloaded bag of his, and comes out with his usual 2 inch thick ream of print outs. I glance over....some story about the decline in car sales from ABC.com.
I go back to looking out the window and listening to LaJohn and Company on my iPod.
As we near scenic Camden, those of us changing to the next train stand and begin gathering our things. He moves towards the door and I happen to see that he has left about 20 sheets of paper, just scattered on the floor. Just laying there. As if this were his home and he will pick them up later.
I reach down, gather them together and go up to him, as the train pulls in to our stop.
"Hey," I say, goodnaturedly, "We have to pass a trash can as we go through the door. Why not throw these away rather than leaving them?" I even smiled. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn't realize he dropped them?
"Thanks, friend." he replies. He actually said that. Thanks. Friend. "I don't know what I was thinking. I needed that."
Not sure what he meant by that last bit, I just smiled and we exited the train.
As we're walking to the door to the station, and our connecting train to Philadelphia, a lady next to me says, "I hate when people do that. Just leave their trash."
I grin, nod, keep walking. He said "Thanks" and "Friend". It was an honest mistake.
He is about 8 people in front of me when he walks through the door, and in almost slow motion, like something out of a movie, or one of those Kramer moments from Seinfeld, I watch him toss the papers towards the can...and MISS.
And they all fall to the floor in a scatter.
He looks at them.
And walks away.
WALKS.
AWAY.
"Really?" I think, "Really? You're tossing them on the floor? You lack that much class?"
I must have said this bit out loud, because as I bend to retrieve another man's garbage, yet again, I hear the same woman from before say, "My god! The nerve of that guy! He has NO class!"
Paper in hand, I go through the turnstile and follow him. He is down the stairs before me, and as he turns to walk the platform, he sees me coming.
He walks faster.
He proceeds as far down the station as humanly possible without walking into the underground tunnel and stops.
Next to a trash can.
I pull off my sunglasses.
Walk up calmly.
Hold out his papers again.
And say, calmly, but much less goodnaturedly, "So....you want to try that AGAIN. Go ahead. There's a trash can. Right. There."
He stares at me, and then, hands shaking, takes the papers and puts them in the can.
"I tried," he says, stammering, but defiant, "If they didn't have that gate up there where the trash can was the papers would have gone in."
"True." I answer, "And if you had reached, oh, I don't know, an extra 8 inches? You would have gotten the papers PAST the gate and into the trash."
He gets indignant.
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
I look at him, head cocked to the side like you dog would do if you suddenly barked at him, "Better to do? You mean, don't I have something better to do than ride the train everyday among the filth left by you and other people with no class?"
"No you wait one minute! I don't" he starts, voice rising in volume.
I lean in closer, never raising my voice, but still clearly heard by those around us, "No Sparky, YOU wait one minute. Have some class. Have some respect. Have some respect for that lady we've all seen who has to come down here everyday and clean up the mess left by people like YOU. If not her, have some respect for your fellow commuters who pay just as much as you do to ride this train, and shouldn't have to sit among your garbage and filth everyday. And if not us, have some respect for YOURSELF. Have enough respect to not have yourself be perceived as a filthy ASS by perfect strangers, because unlike the rest of us you didn't pay attention when they got to the whole 'Put the trash IN the garbage can' lesson back in kindergarten."
"You know what! You should go mind your own business!" he says, as his final words, and pulls out his Blackberry and begins dialing some number or other.
"Buddy....this IS my business. I ride this train every damn day, and I'm tired of people like you." I say.
And as I walk away, I stop, and turn, and add, "Hey....whoever that is you're calling? Have them look up what CLASS and RESPECT are for you. Then have them print it out so you can read THAT on the train tomorrow. You might learn something."
Live and let live?
Yeah.
Sometimes I fucking HATE humans.
Like you don't even know.
You read this blog....you know me...I'm not the confrontational sort. Really I'm not. Live and let live I say.
Or at least try to say....
Let me explain....I hate the fact that when I ride the train on my way to and from work, I have to endure the trash left behind by others. Food containers. Empty coffee cups. Wrappers of all assortments. Newspapers. And keep in mind I have to take TWO trains to get to work, and two to get home, making my connecting change in beautiful downtown Camden, NJ.
So....cut scene to this morning...theres this guy, I'd say late 50's, who I see all the time. Caucasian, brush cut hair, military cut to the corners of the mouth mustache, and this air of superiority about him. Now, know this, he's not homeless. Judging by his clothing he is a business man of some sort. I know, you're thinking, "Wow...he notices this guy? Really?"....keep in mind, I see him on average 6-7 times a week. He stands out. See, two things about him are very obvious....they make him very noticeable.
First...he usually sits in the same area whenever he gets on the train. Among one of the same 4-6 seats, so much so that when he gets on the train and see those seats occupied, he has this habit of standing there for a few moments and staring at the passengers in that area as if they are in HIS spot. HIS seat. And usually with a loud sigh and much muttering he goes off to find someplace else to sit.
Second...as soon as he sits down, he pulls out the equivalent of two reams of printer paper and begins reading. Having had the occasion of sitting next to him in the past, on more crowded commutes, I know what it is....printed out online news stories. ABC.com, NBC.com, CNN.com...you name it, he prints it all out and reads it on the train.
Now the reason this sticks with me, is all I can wonder is, "Who wastes that much paper?" This stories are ONLINE....by their very nature they do not require the wasting of paper. It seems...well....stupid.
But, live and let live I say.
Or at least try to say....
This morning, I get on the train as usual, 2 stops ahead of his, and joy of joys, I'm treated to his usual show. He gets on, sees a mother and child in HIS seats, mutters something or other (I couldn't hear, I had Sevendust playing in my skull at that moment), and decides instead to take a vacant seat in the aisle across from me. Then his meaty paw dives into this cluttered and overloaded bag of his, and comes out with his usual 2 inch thick ream of print outs. I glance over....some story about the decline in car sales from ABC.com.
I go back to looking out the window and listening to LaJohn and Company on my iPod.
As we near scenic Camden, those of us changing to the next train stand and begin gathering our things. He moves towards the door and I happen to see that he has left about 20 sheets of paper, just scattered on the floor. Just laying there. As if this were his home and he will pick them up later.
I reach down, gather them together and go up to him, as the train pulls in to our stop.
"Hey," I say, goodnaturedly, "We have to pass a trash can as we go through the door. Why not throw these away rather than leaving them?" I even smiled. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn't realize he dropped them?
"Thanks, friend." he replies. He actually said that. Thanks. Friend. "I don't know what I was thinking. I needed that."
Not sure what he meant by that last bit, I just smiled and we exited the train.
As we're walking to the door to the station, and our connecting train to Philadelphia, a lady next to me says, "I hate when people do that. Just leave their trash."
I grin, nod, keep walking. He said "Thanks" and "Friend". It was an honest mistake.
He is about 8 people in front of me when he walks through the door, and in almost slow motion, like something out of a movie, or one of those Kramer moments from Seinfeld, I watch him toss the papers towards the can...and MISS.
And they all fall to the floor in a scatter.
He looks at them.
And walks away.
WALKS.
AWAY.
"Really?" I think, "Really? You're tossing them on the floor? You lack that much class?"
I must have said this bit out loud, because as I bend to retrieve another man's garbage, yet again, I hear the same woman from before say, "My god! The nerve of that guy! He has NO class!"
Paper in hand, I go through the turnstile and follow him. He is down the stairs before me, and as he turns to walk the platform, he sees me coming.
He walks faster.
He proceeds as far down the station as humanly possible without walking into the underground tunnel and stops.
Next to a trash can.
I pull off my sunglasses.
Walk up calmly.
Hold out his papers again.
And say, calmly, but much less goodnaturedly, "So....you want to try that AGAIN. Go ahead. There's a trash can. Right. There."
He stares at me, and then, hands shaking, takes the papers and puts them in the can.
"I tried," he says, stammering, but defiant, "If they didn't have that gate up there where the trash can was the papers would have gone in."
"True." I answer, "And if you had reached, oh, I don't know, an extra 8 inches? You would have gotten the papers PAST the gate and into the trash."
He gets indignant.
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
I look at him, head cocked to the side like you dog would do if you suddenly barked at him, "Better to do? You mean, don't I have something better to do than ride the train everyday among the filth left by you and other people with no class?"
"No you wait one minute! I don't" he starts, voice rising in volume.
I lean in closer, never raising my voice, but still clearly heard by those around us, "No Sparky, YOU wait one minute. Have some class. Have some respect. Have some respect for that lady we've all seen who has to come down here everyday and clean up the mess left by people like YOU. If not her, have some respect for your fellow commuters who pay just as much as you do to ride this train, and shouldn't have to sit among your garbage and filth everyday. And if not us, have some respect for YOURSELF. Have enough respect to not have yourself be perceived as a filthy ASS by perfect strangers, because unlike the rest of us you didn't pay attention when they got to the whole 'Put the trash IN the garbage can' lesson back in kindergarten."
"You know what! You should go mind your own business!" he says, as his final words, and pulls out his Blackberry and begins dialing some number or other.
"Buddy....this IS my business. I ride this train every damn day, and I'm tired of people like you." I say.
And as I walk away, I stop, and turn, and add, "Hey....whoever that is you're calling? Have them look up what CLASS and RESPECT are for you. Then have them print it out so you can read THAT on the train tomorrow. You might learn something."
Live and let live?
Yeah.
Sometimes I fucking HATE humans.