Boys and girls, ladies and gentlereaders, commuters of all ages!. Gather round your laptop or mobile device for an another enchanting tale from the life of an Atlanta commuter. The crisp and cool morning air greeted me early this morning while walking to my car to embark on my daily journey to work. Some days I put aside the negativity and disgust of the commute, while others make me jealous of Frodo and Sam’s trek to mount doom. At least they didn’t have to wear a suit and tie and shoes. Today was one of the former. That all changed once I saw The Stupid Man in the parking garage.
I will refer to him going forward as Professor McDumbfuck, because it is astoundingly clear that he is a man with a PhD in De-evolution of Man with an undergraduate degree in Douchebagery. And adding “Mc” as part of the surname just makes it more dramatic, like the guy should have a show on Bravo.
I first saw The Professor after I locked my car doors. Beep beep: the sound that always brings to reality the fact I’m about to ride a stuffy stink pot train for 25 minutes. But I digress. There he was. Running through the parking garage. Leaping over cars at a single bound. Shooting grappling hooks and swinging like Tarzan of the Concrete Jungle. I almost thought he was practicing his method acting audition for the next Bourne movie, but I remembered that Matt Damon already made that glorious announcement.
NOW. The aforementioned statements describe how The Professor thought he looked. In the true spirit of 90% honesty that us bloggers possess, he had the grace of a blind giraffe missing a leg while dragging a tugboat full of ebola behind him. He must have learned that technique in the Douchebagery program from which he earned his undergraduate degree. I wanted popcorn- the buttery heaven in a tub you can only acquire for $20 at the cinema. This was incredible. This man definitely had graduated summa cum laude.
I increase my walking speed ever so slightly so I can continue this free show. We are both approaching the elevator and he’s pressing that button so hard. Or trying to, I should say. His finger keeps missing the button like he was a virgin and he was getting his chance to make his mark on the world and claim his manhood, or lack thereof. I laugh because I know the train is about to depart- there’s an app for that, you know. Surely Professor McDumbfuck knew that. And he knew there was absolutely no way to make the train. But I forgot his degree was not in Physics.
We enter a replica of Willy Wonka’s glass elevator. I politely begin to keep the door open for a woman and her child frantically hurrying to join us. The Professor and I make slight eye contact, almost kin to something you’d see in an old western flick. Sweat beads on the tip of his nose. Music chimes. Tumbleweeds blow by. Then we pull out our guns and show no mercy adding him some sweet Bruce Lee moves where deemed appropriate. I’m totally kidding. But a guy should be prepared for anything. However, I was totally prepared to go ALL Solange on his face!
Without Armageddon, the woman and son enter. Professor McDumbfuck looks at the train leaving and informs us sadly, “There she goes…” I looked in the corner and the smallest woman in the world from American Horror Story Freakshow was playing the world’s smallest violion. The melody was serene and uplifting. I hope it soothed his butthurt heart. Especially since he had to wait an excruciating 2 more minutes for the next train to leave…