It's a Kidney, NOT a CrayonSubmitted by Ducky at 2007-01-11 06:19:15 EST
Rating: 1.75 on 28 ratings (28 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
The skytrain is filled with a wonderfully eclectic mix of people.
They get on the train, ride to their destination...pretending not to notice each other, but stealing sideways glances when they think nobody is looking. Pretending to be alone in a sea of people. Heads up, staring vapidly out of the window at the city as it rushes by, or hunkered down - noses buried deep in books, talking on their phones, listening to their ipods, or perusing the free paper.
When the train is busy, packed like sardines we stand, shifting body weight in a rigid dance...careful not to press ourselves into the person in front of us. Gripping plastic loops and metal bars, flexing and relaxing...aware of our surroundings but not wanting to admit to their existence. Blissful ignorance...a standby crutch when we are forced into close quarters with strangers.
I do the same...
Somebody has just smacked me on the ass. Hard. I can feel a stinging pain and the heat of embarrassment mixed with anger flow to my face. I feel instantly victimized. There is NO way contact of that sort could be accidental. Do I turn and give a menacing glare? Do I pretend it didn't happen? I'm alone here. Alone in this sardine can, packed in with others like me...side by side and yet by myself. Sardines...packed in cottonseed oil, smeared on toast. At this particular moment, are we that different? In some ways our condition is worse...instead of stewing with one another, dead in an oily mess, we are forced to stand, stewing in stagnant air, the sickness of others, and depending on the car you get into, the smell of either stale urine or vomit.
Fuck that, I'm turning.
There, sitting on one of the benches behind me, is Titi. A breath of relief. I really didn't want to have to kick anyone's ass...seeings how I'm so incredibly powerful and all. Titi's full name is TingTing, which makes me think of the little cymbals belly dancers attach to their fingers as they sashay around...a dance for women with hips. My co-worker and friend gestures to the seat next to her and I sit down...we are still waiting for Chris to get on.
"Are you excited?"
Chris...the straightest sounding gay man I've ever met. Everybody's mother, ridiculously outspoken, one of my best friends, and the one person on the skytrain who will remind you of exactly where you are.
He's just recently come out as being gay...which is a big step for him, but with this new found confidence in his orientation, he feels the need to scream it from the rooftops. I'm sure this will lessen...I just need to give him time. He steps onto the train...standing room only. Looking down, he sees a picture...a crappy shot taken in a crappy photo machine at the mall. Perhaps it fell out of somebodies wallet...or perhaps there was an argument. A broken friendship and the subsequent removal of tokens of affection. Perhaps the wallet had been stolen and the thief was randomly throwing away things he or she found no use for. Regardless as to why it was there, Trevor picks it up. Two girls and a boy, crammed into one of those little booths, two of them smiling at the camera - the other turned sideways...licking the boy on the cheek.
Leaning over to a complete stranger on the train, Trevor begins to speak. I close my eyes.
"How are you?"
The man looks to me for help.
"He's very excited about it...please be supportive of his orientation".
The man speaks to me. "Could you please get your friend to stop..."
"Don't look at me, I'm gay too".
Chris smiles at me. The man looks to Titi.
"Me too...I'm gay too. We ah all gay here".
"Hey! Would you like to see a picture of my best friends?"
"...but you just picked..."
"THIS IS SELMA, AND JOE, AND CHRISTIE...DON'T YOU THINK THAT CHRISTIE IS HOT?"
"...but you just said that you were..."
"Okay Chris, stop it. Leave the poor man alone".
"BUT I'M BI!"
"Chris, I know...we all kno..."
"I LIKE TO FUCK GUYS!"
"Yes sweety, me too...we all know that you like to fuck guys. Please leave him be".
I just stare at him.
"Okay Lauren", he says, and takes a seat.
The Body Worlds exhibit was similar.
"WHAT'S THAT SMELL?? IT FUCKING STINKS IN HERE...WHY ARE YOU DRAGGING ME TO SEE DEAD BODIES? THAT'S SORT OF GROSS".
"It doesn't smell in here, and it's meant to be educational...it's at Science World for fucks sakes...look! this one has a prosthesi..."
"Okay...but it's still fucking gross...HEY! WHY ARE ALL THE BALLS IN HERE ATTACHED TO STRINGS? SINCE WHEN DO MY BALLS GROW OUT OF MY ABDOMEN?????"
The final straw came when we came to the display station. Here, there are a number of sections and organs that have been plastinated for the public to handle. I think I may have been the one who made the mistake of likening the texture of the kidney to a wax crayon, but it certainly wasn't me who tried to draw with it.