Tags: Balls on Nose, MBTA, Performance art that doesn't suck
A couple of months ago, I was sitting on the side of the train, at the end of the car, in the seats facing the aisle, as opposed to the ends, of the train.
By the Winchester stop, the aisle had gotten pretty packed. A man stood directly in front of me, with his arm above my head, holding the support rail for balance.
Because there were so many people surrounding him, he had to squeeze in, forcing his intimate region to be level with, and in close proximity to, my facial region.
And so we rode, from Winchester to Wedgemere to West Medford to North Station, with his balls dangling on my nose. It was the worst commute ever.
In contrast, seeing this in North Station would probably make for the best commute ever. I bet Gary would hop right in the midst of it for a graceful, impromtu two-step with a Dunkin’ Donuts barista. And I would cry and cheer like a schoolgirl.