Herded onto the commuter train car this morning, I found my place to stand, adjusted my music, looked down and realized a burn victim sat in front of me. At least seventy percent of his face looked damaged by fire. One eye missing completely, the other appeared only sort of functional. I only took occasional liberties to gaze at him; I'm not rude. His hands looked young, healthy. His hair, moppy with curls, was dark brown and youthful. I imagined him pretty hot before the accident. I figured he must have suicidally low self-esteem with a face like that. He probably didn't have much luck with the ladies. I internally chastised myself for ever complaining about my ugly leg psoriasis. If I threw myself at him, he'd be elated, right? He'd let me ravage him, no questions asked. Who knows how long its been since he touched a woman, I assumed. Then I saw it. He had a wedding ring on his left hand. Mostly-blind-burn guy is married. And not that I want to get married, but a date of some sort with a fella I fancied would be a nice change-up.
There is no good place for breakfast near my office. Most places microwave their eggs which is sick. I figured I could just have cereal, but I didn't want cereal. I just told Nichole I was considering veganism, but all of a sudden I wanted eggs and cheddar cheese. Either corporate or microwave or both are my only options really. The burrito place uses a skillet but then I'd have to walk by my office to get there. I hate to confuse our receptionist. Boudin's is the choice I make (corporate, but just to San Francisco). While I'm waiting for my egg, cheddar and avocado on sourdough, I take a quick staff inventory: all Latino. The white people keep filing in, ordering and waiting. I feel weird. How did this happen? And it's obvious, but no one acknowledges it. Temporary satisfaction with the world: the egg was sent through an oven.
I pass a Subway, McDonald's - both staffed entirely by Latino men and women. Starbucks is the only chain which has a diverse staff, including white, black, gay. Hell, I am not even sure if a Latino person works there. Why is Starbucks different? I think I've stumbled onto some sort of phenomenon. But I consider I'm the last person to notice it and I'm not the person to figure out what it means or make an attempt to change it. I just feel weird being a part of the equation.
There are ten voice mails waiting for me, but one is a hang up. I love the hang ups.