When I stepped on the train tonight after work, I found myself face-to-face with a totally hunky, totally straight guy, who looked up at me for a half a second and then disinterestedly went back to examining his manly fingernails.
Fortunately, the only available seat on the train offered me an unobstructed view of him, which I took advantage of every time I got to a boring part in the Newsweek I had with me.
At the next stop, though, the train started filling with people: a Russian family with two sullen children and a dad whose left eye was so bloody and sunken I assume he’d been in a bar fight that afternoon; a man dressed as Jesus, complete with a flowing robe, a scraggly wig, a five-foot cross over one shoulder and a man-purse decorated in a sequined Virgin Mary motif over the other; an overgrown frat boy whose cotton pleated pants only accentuated the girth around his middle; a mousy girl in a big floppy garden hat; and another hunky straight guy in a muscle-hugging brown sweater who promptly stood next to the original hunky straight guy, significantly raising the property values in their section of the train car.
So my question is this: Is there a polite way to tell Jesus to move His faggy man-pursed self the hell out of my way so I can scope hunky straight guys? Or is there some sort of Commandment forbidding that sort of thing?