Food on a train

So in my new capacity as a regular Toronto Transit Commission user I have had several opportunities to experience new and exciting things whilst riding the subway:  Sticking my crotch in a poor old woman’s face as we are packed in cheek to jowl; Sitting in an overheated metal box with 100 of my closest transit-friends as a “signaling error” is corrected (we’ll be on our way momentarily, honest); or, my personal favourite, having the color of my shirt loudly and repeatedly questioned by a curious bum.

But this past Saturday really took the prize to date.  I don’t know about you, but the idea of eating on the subway is really off-putting to me.  I’m not a germ-iphobe or anything, but even I can grasp just how many people have touched various parts of the car I’m riding in.  I mean, we’re talking everything from the lady holding her dog by the little labradoodle butt and then touching the pole to the kid that alternates nose wipe, ball scratch, pole grab.  So the thought of consuming anything on the train makes me queasy.

So Saturday night, coming back from a lovely dinner, there is a guy sitting across from us.  Now, this guy loses points immediately because he is wearing this hat.  But, on top of this, he cracks open a container containing a full slab of greasy, gooey barbecued ribs and rice and begins to tear into them.  And I mean tear, he’s gnashing and ripping the flesh from the little piggy bones, sauce is everywhere…it’s gruesome.

And yet I can’t look away.  It’s like a freakin’ train wreck.  So as we watch, horrified, he drops one of the ribs on the floor.  And then picks it up.  And then eats it.

Once he dismantles the ribs, he starts on the rice.  And I swear, he couldn’t have scooped anymore into his mouth at once unless he was using this bad boy.  Finally, this stain on humanity finishes his meal, wipes his face and hands with the plastic bag the food came in and then leaves the whole mess sitting on the seat next to him as he exits train right.  I weep for our future.

All I know is that I’m tired of this mother fuckin’ food on this mother fuckin’ train.

Oh, that was awful.  I’m sorry.

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10 responses to “Food on a train”

  1. jimsey says :

    I’m afraid this poor man has been victim of a hat-crime.

    I bet you if he was wearing one of these bad boys:

    you wouldn’t have cared.

  2. Ben says :

    Quick, someone get Harry S. Truman in here for a hat-fitting!

  3. Humberto says :

    You buy a hat like that, you get a free bowl of soup! Oh….it looked good on him though…

  4. Pat says :

    The hat looks great, a good golfing hat.

    By the way, were you wearing the “pink’ shirt again. What have I told you!! Even the bums don’t like it….

  5. Ben says :

    Rubbish! I’ll have you know that it was my purple shirt, thank you very much. Deflects negativity, purple does. But apparently not the mockery of bums.

  6. jimsey says :

    That’s because bums are colourblind.

  7. Mikhail says :

    Did you really semi-quote “Snakes on a Plane” at the end of your blog???? I weep for our future as well if you did!

  8. Pat says :

    Purple shirt. That’s just a different shade of pink. Just go out and buy some white shirts and then you won’t have the bums mocking you ( well, at least not for your shirts).

  9. Sharon says :

    This entry made me laugh.

  10. Ben says :

    Sharon,

    Just knowing I made you laugh makes getting up in the morning worth it all! Hope you are doing well, and thanks for stopping by!

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