Sean the Oblivious

So, I thought that I would give you a quick story today. The other day, I was racing to get to my train home, running a little late. Oblivious to everything I must have step in something, but nonetheless, I made it to my train on time and got myself a seat. I took off my coat, scarf, back pack, sat down and crossed one leg under the other. From there I sat and played merrily on my phone. During this train ride I notice some strange glances at me, but I don’t think anything of it. About an hour into my train ride, my leg is starting to go to sleep from sitting on it so I start to maneuver myself about when I finally notice something on the floor.

Oh dear god!! Someone has smeared dog poop all over the floor! What the hell, what kind of asshole would do something like that! That’s vile! Then I look at my pant leg. Shit… figuratively and literally, shit. All over the bottom half of my pant leg is covered. Then the smell hits me. Holy hell, how did I not notice this earlier? The most vile and foul smelling scent strikes my nose and I almost audibly gasp. This has to be why all these people have been looking at me. Looking at my shoes, it’s becomes painfully obvious that the ass was me.

What am I going to do? Well, there is only ten minutes left on my journey. There is no way that I’m going to be able to clean this. I mean this is going to need industrial cleaning. Do I get up and move? No, that will just draw attention to this mess. I decide I should do the only sensible thing. Sit and pretend there is nothing wrong. Of course, now that I have noticed the mess, the smell is unbearable. My eyes are watering it takes everything I have to survive the last ten minutes. I get to my stop run off the train and then it gets more interesting.

I’m now at a large tube stop with thousands of people and a shit covered pant leg. At least the smell and the majority of the mess is at least leaving with the train and I don’t want to think about the poor souls that have to take that exact train out of London later that night. I decide that the easiest thing to do is walk with my headphones in and head down and make haste for home. First a busy tube and then a busier canary wharf and finally home and directly to the washing machine. In the end my thoughts took me back to Morenci and the personality profile that they made me take while there. Apparently they were right; I have almost zero attention to detail.