I was hit with a real one-two hobo punch yesterday. First one was as I was walking to the train at about 9pm. Ahead of me I see a very large hobo wearing the traditional multiple layers of coats and trousers. There was, in fact, very little to distinguish him from your average run of the mill hobo. Except of course that he has wearing a woman's leather purse around his neck. This may not sound that odd, I mean everyone needs something to carry their gear in right? Difference was that this purse had very short sturdy handles and was placed around his neck in such a way that the manner in whihc it could be removed was not immediately obvious. Indeed, I am puzzled as to how he got it there in the first place. Imagine a short handled, expensive looking purse secured just underneath his chin and you've got the picture. He was also just standing in on place grinning maniacally.
The second encounter occured scant minutes later when I boarded the train. As the train pulled into the station I was disappointed to see that most of the cars were quite full. After having resigned myself to standing most of the way home I was pleased to find that the car that stopped in front of me was essentially empty. Pleased with my good fortune I boarded the train an looked forward to a relaxing ride home. However, no sooner had I taken my seat and the doors closed did I realize the reason for the lack of passengers in this particular car. As the doors closed, sealing my fate, I was assailed by the most overpowering reek of human feces. Glancing down the car I saw a man of the road (or in this case, rails) who had evidently been unable to disembark in order to use the facilities, presumably because he was unconscious. The seat back appeared to have been the site of a chocolate milkshake-related disaster; as if the hobo had sat down on a ballon full of pudding which had exploded up the seat behind him then promptly passed out. I think I would have preferred to stand.