A conversation in two halves
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In previous blogs, I've talked about the joys and obstacles associated with my journey to and from work. However, but for the occasional reference to those to whom straight lines prove difficult, until now I've not mentioned the sort of characters I share these journeys with. Frequenting the same routes five days a week at the same time naturally generates an air of familiarity, not just for the route itself, but for many of its regular occupants.
There's one character that instantly springs to mind, because I see him practically every day—usually in the morning on my way through the city centre. I call him Man-Who-Talks-To-Himself, and I feel it's quite a fitting name, all things considered. If he didn't talk to himself, I'd probably call him Man-Who-Walks-Like-A-Penguin, because he also shuffles along as if his shoelaces were tied together. But considering the fact he's having a full, and largely incomprehensible conversation all by himself as he goes, I think it's the talking side that makes for a more memorable moniker. Waddling slowly, while slightly irritating, doesn't stand out as much as a character trait when you're capable of holding a group discussion all by yourself.
While, historically, Man-Who-Talks-To-Himself always shuffled along on his own, recently he seems to have picked up a friend along the way. Even with company, I notice his exclusive conversation club continues in much the same fashion, and on the one occasion I actually noticed his friend talking, it became apparent why. His friend, who I refer to as "My-Name-Is-Bobby"-Bobby, managed to say "my name is Bobby" about a dozen times in a row to the world at large one day in the time it took me to walk past them. But then, I suppose you need to have something to do when your friend doesn't necessarily need you there to have a chat.
Interestingly, Man-Who-Talks-To-Himself is not without a soul mate. And yet, sadly, I have yet to see the two together. Woman-Who-Talks-To-Herself, is a somewhat rarer feature on my journeys, and is more often seen on those occasions I venture out of the office on my lunch break than on my journeys to or from work. In terms of physical appearance, Woman-Who-Talks-To-Herself closely resembles Crazy Cat Lady from The Simpsons, though in place of cats, she has a mind-boggling collection of carrier bags.
Part of me would like to see what happened if these two were put together (perhaps with "My-Name-Is-Bobby"-Bobby as chaperone). There's every possibility that putting them together might cause them to cancel each other out and they'd sit there in complete silence. Alternatively, we may find out that when the two are together, their conversations actually make sense. Perhaps both are walking around with one half of a complete conversation that will only make sense when the two are brought together. There's an almost romantic element to it.
There are all manner of strange and/or wonderful people in the world that we perhaps see several times a week without giving them a second thought simply because we don't know them. As a writer, such variety fascinates me as I'm sure every one of them has a story to tell. And perhaps some of them tell it to themselves on a daily basis.