On Sunday morning, while I was heading to Kenmore station to catch the bus to work, a man got on the train holding his stomach and unsteady on his feet. Once passengers cleared a bit and he made his way into the train and grasped the rail, I noticed bloody gash marks on his cheekbone and chin, a dark bruise beneath one of his eyes, and a rip in his shirt revealing a large, bleeding cut on his chest. When he turned to look for a seat, I saw a small knife handle imbedded deep in his lower ribcage.
That's what tipped me off that it was Halloween weekend.
And the sick expression? Probably too much mystery punch the night before. I just hope the poor reveller got through the Ride of Shame and made it safely home to wash off all the red dye.
2 comments:
how did this not come up in conversation? You kept this great tidbit to yourself? Oh, it hurts...
matt
Yeah, read it with the rest of the hoi polloi, buddy.
(I had to look up how to spell polloi.)
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