CTA Tattler

Snow White and the Seven Crown

I board the Red Line northbound at Sheridan and move toward the Hobo Corner. Sitting in the seat on the other side of the HC is a tall, heavy-set man in his late 30s. He has a moustache, goatee, and male pattern baldness perfectly centered on the top of his head, much like a yarmulke.

He is watching Casino Royale on a small, silver DVD player. He is wearing a blindingly white sweatsuit, with snow-white tennis shoes. His entire outfit is absolutely without blemish.

As we near Wilson, he closes his DVD player, and pulls a half pint whiskey bottle out of his sweatsuit pocket. He uncaps the bottle and takes a really long pull. After which, he sighs contentedly, and replaces the bottle in the snowy depths of his sweatshirt hoodie pocket.

He stands up to exit, and turns to a small, prim, young woman with short, curly dark hair in a plaid nerd shirt. He abruptly asks her: "Do I have any dirt on the back of this? Any dirt, anywhere?"

The young woman shrugs and says, "No, you look just fine."

He gives his shoes once last once over and exits at Wilson.