To the guy sitting opposite me on the tram yesterday morning, thanks for the laugh so early in the morning. It does the heart good, well, it does, starting the morning that way.
The tram was busy with people, many were standing. I'd found a seat, as I usually seem to, they just kind of appear for me. Like car parks do, as my friend Mandy always says.
I first noticed him when he was standing in front of me with his back to me, his grey trousers were kind of tight and had a check to them and a thin red stripe that just seemed to float on the grey material. Was I seeing in 3D? I rubbed my eyes. He jigged his leg, which I thought was kind of unusual when someone was standing, it’s a sitting down kind of activity, generally. I know, I sometimes I jig my leg when I am sitting and it is oddly satisfying.
Then he turned around and stood next to me, you know really close, closer than I really thought he needed to so early on a, was it Monday? I hadn’t even woken up enough to know. It was early, I was like a two week old puppy, my eyes hadn’t opened yet.
All I had to do was tilt my head to the right, just slightly, and it seemed like the grey checked red striped material was right in my face. I could see his hand twitching. He had long fingers. I wondered if he had his nails done? It looked like he had his nails done. His knuckles kind of popped, you know like that dance, if he’d stretched them out they would have been grazing my forehead with each twitch and pop.
I gazed up to see if he had headphones on? He did, of course.
A seat became available, the woman with the thick glasses and the even thicker trashy novel got off on the edge of the CBD. He sat down, on the seat opposite. He had to pull the legs of his grey checked and red striped trousers up, as they kind of caught around his knees, for his legs to stretch out a bit inside the material. His fingers continued to twitch and dance on his thighs. It was difficult looking in his direction, without my eyes just kind of following those fingers, it was hard not to look at them doing their jig. I resisted, just a little, but not really so much. I didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to.
When some fool tried to do a U turn over the tram tracks and the tram had to slam on its brakes suddenly, his hands clenched into fists so tightly I thought the ends of his thumbs were going to shoot off into space, perhaps ricochet around the cabin like stray bullets. The thought of stray thumbs flying about over our heads made me chuckle.
I’d wait for him to look out the window, then my eyes would drop and watch those fabulous fingers. They kind of danced and jigged up and down his thighs, backwards and forwards. When he looked back in my direction, I’d divert my eyes quickly to the right and out the window on the other side of the tram. Tra la la. Then when I saw him in my peripheral vision look out the window again, my eyes would slide back to his twitching fingers. I’m pretty sure he didn’t catch me looking.
Ipsy wipsy spider’s web came to mind and those hand actions my mum used to do as she recited the words.
His fingers were like two spiders running up and down his thighs. Dancing, and twitching and fidgeting, and prancing and pirouetting and spinning there on his legs. Had he had one too many coffees? Was he waiting for his medication to kick in? The thoughts made me chuckle too.
I wondered if he knew what his hands were doing? Was he fully cognisant, or was there some kind of disconnect going on? I looked around to see if anyone else noticed the show going on right under their eyes, but no, of course not, just blank stares all around me. A sea of faces set to cadaver, for the morning journey into town.
