January 26th, 2005

The gentleman is always properly dressed

Riding on the Metro

Under the best of circumstances, an overcrowded train makes for an uncomfortable commute. Even if you're fortunate enough to score a seat, you still have to deal with umbrellas dripping on you, the snuffling masses who refuse to resort to tissues, and the occasional crazy who will insist on informing everyone in the car about his theories about mind control satellites, professional sports conspiracies, and flouridated water supplies. (No, not me. I tend to limit sharing my crazy ideas to friends.) Any of this is expected, and each is colorful reminder of the hazards of shared space.

The worst is having to deal with the leaners. On the Red Line, the rows of seats are interrupted by crossbars where the doors are, and these crossbars are tempting spots for a leaner. A leaner will shuffle in and proceed to unceremoniously plant his or her rump on that bar. If you are unfortunate enough to be in that end seat when a leaner enters, you are forced to deal not only with having a complete strangers ass in your face, but also with the fact that you are in essence being sat on. For all intents and purposes, the leaner spends his entire ride rubbing his ass against your shoulder. I am by no means squeamish, but this isn't something I really want to deal with on my morning commute.

I know it could be worse, but had some guy been instead rubbing his bulge against my shoulder, I think I'd be fairly justified to throw my coffee at him.

I'm just sayin'...
The gentleman is always properly dressed

What say you?

I have a whole collection of images from around (but not actually from inside) the DNC that I've just never had heart to do anything with. Every once in a while, I'll pull them up to have a look, but all I can think is just how anticlimactic the whole affair was for me. I kept waiting for something to happen. I was never quite sure what, exactly, but an event so big and so disruptive to the city seemed like it needed to amount to something. Even the big "Tomorrow will be different..." promise from the Black Tea Society fizzled. The most profound thing that happened was that some kids got arrested for throwing a papier mache molotov. Perhaps I kept being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the whole thing seemed colorful and a little pointless. I mean, it's not like there was really a lot to demonstrate against.

At any rate, all of this is by way of saying that I have images. I don't know that I've a story to tell, but I thought I'd check in to see if you folks had any interest in them. What say you?

And while you're thinking on it, can you recommend good software to store and catalog a growing collection of digital pics?