or, at least the most blogworthy. i have not yet decided how i feel about this realization. but i like to watch people, and there is no better place than a metro car for that pastime, ladies and gentlemen. so i think i'm ok with it.
let me tell you about last night's ride. first of all, you all know how i feel about balding. it's like aging, gentlemen. best if done gracefully. this man on the train last night ... he had a pretty substantial comb-over, which is a definite no-no. (unless you're carl levin or someone else who looks like ben franklin. then you can do whatever the hell you want. i love you carl!) but it was so much more than that. the wind had displaced (er ... mangled) his combover. it was sticking out, up, around, every which way. oh god it was hiLARious. (i have seriously got to get a camera phone, people. seriously.)
how am i not supposed to stare? i know it's rude, but you know what? so is a comb-over. hmph.
then ... just as i was recovering from the shock of this comb-over-gone-wild, this middle-aged, in-town-for-business, reeking-of-cheap-beer midwesterner siddles on up and plops into the seat perpendicular to mine. he looks at me and the cranky tired secretary sitting next to me, smiles, and says -
if he'd had a cowboy hat, i'm sure he'd have tipped it.
what the ...
i'd love suggestions on how i should have responded (and don't bother commenting, with a confused look that says, "sir, we don't talk on the train. not to strangers. and not to strangers with ipods." followed by some pretend text-messaging to further avoid eye-contact. because i'm already all over that.)