Odd People and Incidents on Public Transportation Redux

CTA train, Chicago

I was reading a piece lately about some rather deplorable conditions (bedbugs, ew!) and raunchy actions (primarily sex) on Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) trains. The evidence originated from those who should know, the operators of the trains.

Now I am a regular rider (both by choice but also because of financial constraints), and I have noticed some odd behavior lately, and one could possibly attribute some of the aggressive behavior to the polarized climate of stress since the last election, but let's face it, the transportation is for the public. And no one in a public environment is ever completely placid and uniform, despite the presence of certain social etiquette mores.

I won't discuss the panhandlers or persons who sadly are suffering from some form of mental illness, specifically, as they, regardless of their individual backstories, have always been a constant presence on the subway. I will instead focus and comment on the more odd, and one even charming, people and actions I have noticed through the years.

A heavyset African guy plugged into headphones was falling asleep. His head gradually ended up on the shoulder of a young woman sitting next to him. She actually responded nicely, gently nudging him, and I heard her say, “You were falling asleep.” He looked dazed and immediately shut his eyes again. This falling asleep on people is not uncommon; a former coworker of mine told me she did the same, and she told me the nice elderly woman next to her just let her rest that way through most of the journey. I have never fallen asleep on anyone on the subway, though I have often through about resting my head on the chest and shoulders of a few hot guys here and there on various trips.
 

Two men leaning against each other on subway train

One rush hour, on a particularly crowded train car, a woman began flossing her teeth. I think this action ranks with the bedbugs. People were so jammed in and in obvious discomfort that this action went unnoticed, though a heard a few tsking sounds here and there. Ew!

I overheard a woman (and yes, I was listening), overall rather in coarse in clothing and flat of voice, firing someone. Yes, on a cellphone, and yes, on the subway. The corporate jargon words and phrases I heard included, “I don't think this position is working out for you.... as a manager, I've felt the need to discuss what is going on with you recently.... you are just not a good fit for us right now.” On the subway? Come on! Where is the sense of proportion, boundaries?

I've noticed these three incidents involved boundaries. People are doing actions in public that one normally does in private, either at home in the bedroom or the bathroom, or in an office.

And speaking of boundaries, I must admit, I've never seen any overt sexual activity on the subway, and I really don't remember any particularly passionate public displays of affection. But then, I don't take the CTA that late, when more of these incidents might occur, the results perhaps of intoxication other factors that cause one to break taboos.

And lately, because the majority of the riders are plugged into phones (perhaps the new conventional subway behavior), certain actions tend to stick out more, even a conversation. For example, I overheard a heated conversation between high school boys who looked like conventional nerds with big thick glasses, 90-pound weaklings who would get sand kicked in their faces by jocks, about obscure astronomical data. Something about orbits and velocity. Really advanced math. Well, in a few years, these kids will be making the big bucks and never have to ride the subway again.

Still, in my subway observations and musing, I would rather fantasize about the more conventional hot young business guys in their tight dress pants and gleaming brown derby shoes or the rougher types in athletic gear freeballing.
 

Manspreading guy in athletic gear

People on the subway have come a long way since Ethel refused to ride it in blue jeans when she had to take Lucy, vaguely disguised as a beekeeper, to the silversmith. Lucy had somehow gotten a loving cup/trophy stuck on her head.
 

Lucy on subway with loving cup on her head

But that's so much interesting than staring at a phone screen, eh?

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Sweatpants

 

Guy in sweatpants from behind


I used to wear loud pajamas with seventies colors that my brother said could “wake the dead,” even through my early twenties. I was used to I guess sleeping chastely, but I did not go completely in that direction, wearing a nightcap. 

I switched to sleeping in sweatpants as I matured in the adult world. I was already wearing them around the house all the time when I came out, but I never made the transition to wearing them out and about except when jogging. I don't know … I just feel like they are too casual for even mundane activities like shopping, and since they are my main sleepwear, I feel like I am going outside in my pajamas (I did that once when I lived in the dorms, but that's another story). 

Now it seems, the boundaries between sleepwear and casual everyday wear are more blurred. I've taught students who wear those flannel lounge pants (which for me are essentially glorified pajama bottoms) to class, and not just those who live in the dormitories. 
 

Vintage photo of frat guys in pajamas


Thus, given the trend I mentioned above, seeing a guy in sweatpants on the subway or the bus is pretty routine these days, which leads me to my main point: one just doesn't notice the sweatpants. One notices the bulge. And if the guy is really hung, he “freeballs.” The loose-fitting wear allows some motion beneath one can see. 
 

Freeballing in sweatpants


Craigslist missed connections is replete with what I call the bulge gaze, usually quick and furtive, or furtively repetitive, in the gym, on the subway, in the Home Depot. I noticed the bulge in your sweatpants. Dude, you were freeballing when you got up from your seat in the subway. 

And combine the freeballing with the manspread, you've practically got enough vision of the cock to start creaming in your pants or sweatpants. 

I will share my one somewhat, and I say somewhat, erotic experience with sweatpants. I hosted a Halloween party many years ago. I dressed up as Joan Crawford as played  by Faye Dunaway in the Mommie Dearest jogging scene. (I must mention that men only wore sweatpants in the gym, and people, especially women, did not jog in public, in the 1930s.) I was wearing tight gray sweatpants. I slathered some mint julep masque on my face to combine that scene with the infamous wire hangers/forced bathroom cleaning scene. The costume was not a hit. The sweatpants were. 
 

Joan Crawford jogging scene in Mommie Dearest


A guest at the party, I think an acquaintance of a friend, was so enamoured of me in those sweatpants, that he pulled me into the bedroom and began feeling me over. He was not attractive to me, and I repelled his advances. I immediately complained to his friend, who basically told him he had to leave. Yes, my guest was drunk. Goodness, this sounds like sexual harassment, but I didn't think of it that way at that time. 

The next week I received in the mail (these were the days before the Internet) I guess what could be called a love letter or love poem. I apparently was so hot in those sweatpants. The sweatpants showed off my perfect ass. I received another letter and once more I complained to the mutual friend. 

Now I am thinking I should be so lucky to get fondled and stalked, at my age, but I must remember the guest was not cute. If it had been one of the other guests, the tall guy with the mustache wearing a tuxedo and harness boots, that would have been another story. 

I must admit since I lost 30 pounds I could probably buy a smaller size in sweatpants and maybe dare to wear them out to the Walgreens. 

Miracles do happen. Even when you are wearing sweatpants.

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