The Fat Man

After class near Columbus Circle, I got on a C train headed for 34th Street. The train was crowded, as it was around 5PM, and all of the suites were headed back to their suburban families on Long Island. There were no seats left, so I stood holding the diseased metal bar for support during turns and deceleration. During this ride, I turned around to see a man of generous carriage, maybe 450 lbs. He was taking up two seats, sweating, and wearing the thickest glasses I have ever seen. These were literally an inch thick, and even with these monstrosities on his face, he had to squint and hold his folded newspaper about four inches from them in order to read.  

For some reason, I could not stop staring at him, mostly because I had never seen glasses of that magnitude, but it was also his weight. It made me feel sorry for him. As the train neared 34th street, I was walking passed him, and he stopped me with his hand. I turned to him with a smile, as he gazed through those coke bottle bottoms into my eyes and said in a sloppy pronunciation, "You know, if you feel bad for me, I can only feel bad for you." He stuck his hand out for me to shake, and I did, no matter how greasy it was. I smiled and said, "Thanks" and walked out of the subway car. This freaked me out for the rest of the day, mostly because I think that the fat man was just watching me watch him while he was squinting. I could not see him through the thick glasses and the acute angle I had. Yes, the whole time I was watching him, he was probably staring straight into my eyes, and I couldn't tell!