Thru the years of commuting back and forth to Chicago, it is not uncommon amongst my train buddies to nickname people that we run across on a daily basis.
Such as:
Abe (the tall guy that walks thru our evening train and has an eerie resemblance to our
16th President);
Doll Hair Lady (a well-dressed 40ish woman, attractive except for her blonde, poofy, dried-out, looks like doll's hair that had been matted and brushed out about 100 times hair);
Mole Face (not at all nice, but when we say it, everyone knows who we are talking about…the middle-aged woman on the morning train that has a giant mole/wart growing on the side of her face);
Barbie and Ken (an attractive woman and man who are often together on the evening train,
ALWAYS looking beautiful – like the dolls they are nicknamed after);
You get the point.
The guy that I am talking about today has been on my morning train for at least a year……
Probably mid-20’s, disheveled, he wears the same “outfit” every day, consisting of a Pac Man or similar genre t-shirt, stretched thin from age and being pulled to its capacity, faded husky-sized blue jeans, and a Carpenter’s Union denim jacket. (Seriously he could not be in the "trades" those guys would have kicked his butt from here to next Tuesday in a heartbeat!)
He has a scraggly full beard that comes to a point, like a troll….which is why I gave him the moniker of
“The Troll”.
He has been ill mannered and mean the few times I have overheard him talking on his cell phone to whom I believe to be his mother.
This morning, seemingly bored and not sure what to do with himself,
The Troll began picking his nose, examining the contents on the end of his finger and then wiping said contents onto his well-worn jeans.
Having been desensitized over the years to such behavior from him and others (across the board I have
ONLY witnessed men doing this), I wasn’t too appalled.
Yet.
Obviously, not fulfilling enough for
The Troll to just pick his nose….he started yanking on the collar of his t-shirt, stretching it down.
“What might he be looking for?” was my thought.
Like a train wreck….a sick curiosity would not allow me to look away.
Because of that curiousity, I got to witness
The Troll reach a new level of disgusting public behavior…..
he started popping pimples on his upper chest!
With his pointy-haired chin shoved as far down as it could onto his chest, he would search for ripe ones, give them a squeeze and move on to the next.
Once I recovered from the near fainting spell that overcame me….I decided that
“The Troll” is much too nice of a nickname for this person.
I have now named him
“Mr. 3 P” which stands for….
“Public Pimple Picker!”
it does not get much sicker
