Editor’s note: I’m not big on Purell, but this story made me want to buy a Costco-size container to use all at once.
Barf. Oh, but there’s more:
As Muni approached Van Ness station, I finally got some room to move. Yay! But, as I turned to move closer to the open door, I was stopped in my tracks by a homeless woman wearing a velour sweatshirt tied around her head. We made eye contact. She asked for a dollar. I said I didn’t have one. She had crazy eyes. I mumbled something inaudible while I shuffled toward the other end of the car. She held my gaze, and then laughed. Cackled, really. She pointed at me, and then cackled some more. I was creeped out, but also increasingly concerned that there was leftover guacamole on my face.
The train became packed again. My new crazy eyed friend found her way next to me on the crowded train and leaned right up against me, her entire back and hair completely superglued to my body. Awesome. Periodically, she would crane her neck around to look at me, sense my fear, and keep laughing to herself. I made awkward, pleading eyes with my fellow passengers in hopes that someone would help — not even the horndogs making out next to me batted an eye.
Wouldn’t you know it, she got to her stop in one piece. But before she bailed:
My new cackling, crazy-eyed friend turned around, pointed and laughed at me one more time, and then gave me a massive bear hug right before I elbowed my way off the bus.
And that was Tuesday.
The moral of this story: keep your arms, backs, hair, and tongues to yourselves — unless you ask first and get the OK, which is entirely possible on Muni. In that case, keep the aforementioned items on your partner and away from your neighbors.