The Metro Fetor

“Oh man…this is bad. Repulsive, nauseating, and unpalatable.” These were the words pouring out of my mouth approximately 1:06 P.M. yesterday. Let me back up.

I flew back from Little Rock yesterday morning because the boys and I were playing a couple times out there. Diehlio (Chris) picked me up from the airport (Steph had class) around 9:30 A.M. and we headed back to to the apartment to hang for a while. My plan was to go meet Steph up at the school for lunch. I hadn’t seen her in a few days and I knew a Homemade Chaddy Frank Chicken Quesadilla (it is trademarked) would not only impress my wife, but would help her through the rest of the day. So, as soon as I finished whippin’ it up, Diehls and I headed down to catch the Metro Rail. Quick timeout: You’re probably thinking, “Why are you taking the train, Chad?” I’m so glad you asked, altruistic reader. The reason why I do not drive down to the school is because 1) Parking is a nightmare, 2) Parking costs $10, 3) Parking is a nightmare.

Time in. Chris and I walked down to the cross walk and waited to cross. Our apartment complex must have been over-watering their flowers because there was a lake of water on the side of the curb. You know that part in Zoolander where Derek gets drenched by the puddle of water from the speeding car? Yeah…that happened to us. The car drove, water splashed, Diehl and I sprayed. Unfortunately, that is not the disgusting part of the story. Oh, how I wish it was.

I’ll fast forward and get to the juicy stuff (aw…gross). Chris and I made it to the school. Steph and I hugged and kissed. I surprised her with the ‘dilla (which was dripping with awesome). Lunch was great. Steph walked back to class. Chris and I walked back to get on the fascinating Metro Rail.

Play.

I am a very aware person. What I mean is, I like to look around and be familiar with my surroundings at all times. The Metro was no different. I look, analyze, and interrogate (It’s more of an internal interrogation of myself. For example, “Chad, if that dude in the gray trench coat tries to steal that sweet old lady’s purse, what will you do? Well, I would use the ancient art of Savate to neutralize the assailant.”) to keep myself aware and free of surprise. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

We were almost to our stop when tragically and abrubtly we engaged the most treacherous odor I have ever smelled in my life. The smell was a combination of mildew, cat urine, melted plastic, and baked onion. My feeble mind cannot conjur up the sufficient diction needed to impart the true odor. We looked at each other, looked around, and could not find where this stench was coming from. Holy cow. HOLY COW.

I looked to my left and saw a young woman walk up to the front of the bus. I could’ve sworn she had tears in her eyes. She sat down. My dire need for comprehending this situation overtook my person. I made eye contact with her and gave her a bold look that spoke, “Do you have any idea where this funk is coming from??? Please help.” Her eyes were as wide as ping pong balls as she gently pointed behind Chris and I. Immediately, in the most conspicuous manner possible, I turned and looked. To my horror I saw a well-off, middle aged man with his BARE left foot in his hands! Both shoes off, feet exposed. My initial reaction was heartbreak, because I thought it was a homeless person with a severe foot disease. My second reaction was disgust, because I didn’t think this man was homeless. He was decently dressed, had his cell phone up to his ear, cased laptop next to him, and some medicated foot cream that he was applying to his feet on the PUBLIC METRO RAIL. “Oh man…this is bad.”

I went to bed last night a different person having experienced that smell. I DO feel bad for this man, and I really hope that his feet get taken care of. For his sake and all of ours.

~ by chadwickmartin on October 9, 2007.