Post-Modern Drunk: A Christmas Parable
Four days before Christmas, on the ride home after work, a crowded train, stuck on the bridge because of a train ahead of us. Everyone has their boxes and Macy's bags and nicely wrapped presents. Except for me, and the guy across the aisle from me, who was probably an understudy for Gluttony in Se7en. We're talking orca fat.

I have my backpack and iPod, Gluttony across the aisle has a plastic bag that he proceeds to fill with vomit quietly and steadily, coughing as the fluid line in the plastic bag gets higher and higher.

And no one says a thing. We all make eye contact with each other, but no one says, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" or "I wish Kevin Spacey had killed you for real!"

The train stops at the first station after the bridge. And he stays on.

Why do you stay on a train? You have a plastic bag filling with vomit and dear god you really should not be fidgeting with that. Just leave it alone! Leave it! And get off the train! Don't you know that if you're sane and you do something YOU JUST DO NOT DO IN PUBLIC you quickly absent yourself from that public? Maybe get off and find a bathroom and get ahold of yourself? Not sit there with a cheap plastic bag filled with vom in your hand!

Merry Christmas!

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