Reasons Why I am a Horrible Person

#1:

Kid -- 11, 12 years old -- gets on train behind me, wearing what are obviously flannel pyjama bottoms. I stare daggers at him, thinking "Hey, kid, put some pants on!"

I realize that must be his mother with him. Stare daggers at her, thinking "Hey, lady, make your kid put some pants on!"

Announcement comes over the PA: "Next stop Charles Street, Massachusetts General Hospital, Mass Eye & Ear Infirmary" and I stare daggers at it, thinking "Hey, moron, this is Park Street. Charles/MGH was the last stop. Where me and pyjama-kid and pyjama-mom got on."

Just for good measure, I add "Stupid pyjama-family."

(And no, I don't know why, in a story about a little boy in his pyjamas, I have so many pictures of scantily-clad girls, but there you go. Let's just say I'm earning brownie points and doing it for him. Because...)

Then I stare at the floor and think "Oh. Unless, um. Unless he, you know, got on at MGH because he was, like, at MGH. As in, in the hospital. In which case--"

At this point I hear him say "But, what does it mean, Mom?"

And she says:

"Well, honey, you're not going to die or anything. But it means there are certain jobs you probably won't be able to do. Like construction worker, for example."

In conclusion: I don't know what diagnosis that poor kid just got, but I know I am a board-certified asshole!

Oh no wait. Sorry. Wrong picture.

Shit! Wait! One more try. Hang on...

Ah... that's it.

I'm a Dick.