Song for a Crappy Tuesday

Last night you saw Tuesday after Memorial Day at a Cubs game. 

 It was somewhere in the middle of the 6th inning (of a game which was, if one were to be tactful, demoralizing at best) he wobbled up from his seat, cupped his hands to his mouth and honked:

"LET'S GO CUBBIES."

In a distant section another Tuesday, probably a Tuesday After Easter Sunday, offered his weak response.  "LET'S GO CUBBIES."

The two of them went at it for a while - call and response, call and response - with no one else from the crowd joining in.  But neither of their resolves waned, and neither of them had friends lucid enough to stop them.  When TaMD's voice grew hoarse, he drank another plastic cup full of Old Style, and lurched up again.  Around the 8th Inning he was met with no response by the other Tuesday, but instead beated the echo out in his skull.  When fans in rows down front turned to express their distaste for TaMD, he looked away, and guttered out laughs to his buddies.

Now you are on the train, and sitting before you, asleep in his dampish clothes from the night before is TaMD.  You caught sight of him on the EL platform and were distressed to think that perhaps he lives nearby.  As the two of you entered the car, he took the only available seat and proceeded to pass out.

He is sleeping with his mouth open and hot, wet bursts of air escape his lungs, suffocating all  around him.  

You are right by his head.  

  

Even though I had my scarring incidents in grade school when it came to Roller Skating, there was never a time that I passed up a Skating Party. Partly, because it was the only time I was able to play Pac-Man (except at Pizza Hut).  

But mostly, it was the only time I got to hear unabashed Kickin' Jamz.  I think something inside me was ashamed of liking synthesized music, but in a roller rink, that's all they played, so I never had to be embarrassed.  

The best part was when the DJ, God love whoever he is, would crank Midnight Star's "Freak-A-Zoid."  Everyone reacted the same way.  A bellow of screams, and the whir of wheels on slick concrete.  Glorious.

And this video is, quite possibly, the nonpareil of unselfconscious nerd boogie.  WARNING:  Your head might blow off from sheer delight.

With tender care (like removing the Funny Bone from a game of Operation) you place a Listerine strip on TaMD's tongue.  

He snorts. He shifts.  But he does not wake.  

The other silent passengers eye you with gratitude.