I joke a lot about other people wanting to punch me in the face. Well, in a Seinfeldian twist, my little joke about nothing became something the other day. I got punched in the face. And by "face" I mean "arm," but, really, that's close enough for me to be a little concerned.
Of course, this punch to the face that was really my arm was also not intentional. The pain was thrust unto my limb by one of DC's ridiculously annoying teens. A teenage girl, to be exact, shouting something incomprehensible to her friend who also couldn't wait for those of us exiting the metro train to board themselves.
I guess I shouldn't have mocked that sh*tty video the metro authorities put out pleading with people to practice common courtesy, which as far as I know doesn't include punching people in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise while bursting onto the metro despite the exiting crowd.
Once again, DC is full of assholes.
And the timing couldn't have been better. It was just when I was getting back into the District after a nice relaxing few days in the country, where I didn't get punched at all.
But don't think getting punched was the only "interesting" thing to happen to me immediately upon my return. A homeless man also creepily approached me and told me and/or his imaginary friend that his leg "smells of Limburger cheese."
In retrospect, that really was interesting. And for the record, I didn't smell anything beyond stale booze and rat piss, although, I suppose, that could easily be mistook for Limburger cheese...
Yep. I'm so glad to be back...