Caressing the feather duster
A lumpish 40-year-old man busies himself on the Red Line with some things in his cloth clutch bag.
After futzing around a bit in the bag, he pulls out a long, cylindrical plastic carrier and opens it. He carefully slides a colorful feather duster.
The duster has long, green and yellow feathers sprouting out of a toucan head.
He lays it in his lap and lovingly strokes it all the way from Argyle to Howard.
I used to think new york was chock full o' crazies, but chicago is like a creep magnet, most nutballs ive ever seen in my life!!! what the hell is going on!
Posted by: guest | November 23, 2005 at 09:48 AM
Who you asking? I've been here for 28 years and I'm still trying to figure that one out.
Yesterday a man gets on and announces he's selling crack cocaine: "It looks like crystals." and asks us if we wanted to buy some.
Gosh-darn Red Line!
Posted by: Taylor | November 23, 2005 at 12:48 PM
Hey! I LOVE the nutballs and all the wonderful variety; damn they make life interesting (although a bit too fragrant at times). Without our unbalanced "friends" riding the CTA it would be as dull as Naperville. (Insert SHUDDER here.) Thankfully it's not.
Posted by: Patrick | November 23, 2005 at 01:06 PM
I can't imagine driving in Chicago--look at all you'd miss!
Posted by: Cheryl | November 23, 2005 at 05:41 PM
Hey, Patrick, stop reminding me of where I'm stuck for the time remaining! ~_^
Posted by: Brian | November 23, 2005 at 06:05 PM
Hey, if people once had rocks for pets, why not feather dusters?
Posted by: Margaret | November 28, 2005 at 11:31 AM