Lukewarm Hotdogs and the Man with No Style (Part I)

Lukewarm Hotdogs and the Man with No Style

Part I

Marcus Trentworthy and his family made it to Gate 21 at Houston Hobby Airport on their way back home from Christmas with his in-laws.  His daughter Jeanette sat down first and immediately pulled out her new DS and was lost in a daze of video games.  Kim fondled through her purse as she sat down looking for her compact.

Marcus sat between them, on the black vinyl chair, and realizing he had everything in place to go home, thought the last calm and serine thought he would have for some time.

At first it was a glance.

“Who is that?”  He thought to himself.  Marc did not say anything and looked down at his pants.  He raised his eyes again and looked towards the windows of the gate.  Sitting in a similar vinyl chair 20 feet away, peering off into the runway was something shocking.

He looked down once more at his pants and raising his eyebrows and blinking his eyes he tried to shake it off.  That feeling.  Oh, that feeling was coming on strong.  The feeling that he absolutely had to stare.  He had to stare at this man.

He raised his eyes again and stared, and his brain began to analyze.

The man sitting down against the window was wearing the most incredible outfit.  Starting from his feet, he had on no socks and one dress shoe.  The other foot was covered in a paper bag and appeared to be barefoot.  It was held on by a pink fluffly scrunchy.  He had on a bright pink warm-ups with a smear of, hopefully, mud down one side.  They must’ve been too big for him so he hiked them up around his, protruding stomach. 

“Oh he’s standing up, good Lord!” Marc thought to himself.  The anomaly stood up and looking around walked closer to the window and put his hands on his hips.

The man was bloated to a point of looking pregnant and his pink warm ups said, LOVE on his butt which, despite the size of his rotund belly was the size of a large orange.  Tucked into this man’s pink warm ups was a Rodeo-style cowboy shirt, pressed with neat creases down his arms and complete with an obnoxious rhinestone outline of the State of Texas.

His hair was a mess and his beard was coming in patchy, awkwardly longer than a shadow, and glistening with sweat along his upper lip, which was short and seemed to curl up under his nose.  He was chewing gum, most likely, and with each bite his upper lip would drop and curl back up to his nose, with his whole jaw jutting forward, reminding mark of a baby animal sucking on a teat.

“Honey, did you hear me?” Kim, Marc’s wife, leaned in. 

“Huh?  What?”  He shook his head but couldn’t look away.

“Honey, what are you staring at?”

“I, uh, nothing, nothing.  What did you ask?”  He turned his head so it was facing hers but his eyes stayed locked on the man.

“I asked if you wouldn’t mind if Jeanie and I went and got some ice cream.”  She leaned in closer and whispered, “Marc I see you staring at that poor man and you are not setting a good example for Jeanette.”

“No, no I wasn’t, I mean, yeah, ice cream.  Go for it.”  Marc shook his head, blinked his eyes and smiled at his wife.  As they walked off, Kim shot Marc a ‘get-your-act-straight’ look and he waited what seemed like a lifetime for them to turn the corner towards the ice cream shop. 

As soon as they turned he whipped his head back to see the man now sitting in front of him, close enough to lean over and touch.

“Shit!”  Marc yelped in a high pitched voice.  Marc slapped his mouth and the woman sitting next to the awkwardly dressed man clapped her hands around her son’s ears.  The young man smiled and chanted, “Shit! Shit! Shit!”  She picked him up and carried him off around the corner where he would latter be heard crying.

The awkward man did not notice Marc’s faux pas.  He had head phones on.  Marc’s heart jumped but settled as he realized the man’s eyes were closed as well.  On his lap was a 1990’s style CD player, and a CD case of what looked like Jeff Foxworthy’s greatest hits.

Marc leaned forward, with one eye on the man’s eyes and another on his lap.

“Yep, Jeff Foxworthy.” Marc thought to himself.

Cuddled up next to the man between his skinny ass and the arm of the chair was a bag of batteries.  Not just any bag though, a gallon sized bag.  And it was full too, bursting like the man’s porcine stomach, with AA batteries.

“Stop looking Marc.  This poor man must be handicapped.  You should be ashamed.”  He chided himself

Marc felt terrible for staring and sorry for the handicapped man and managed to shake his need to stare. 

“Sir, excuse me, sir?” Marc’s heart jumped, his head stayed looking at his crotch.  “Sir, excuse me?” 

Marc looked up, and the awkward man had taken off his head phones and was looking directly at him.

“Sir, do you happen to have a pen on you?”  The awkward man spoke perfect flawless English with a non-regional accent and he looked Marc right in the eyes as he said it.  His mouth then closed and began its teat sucking motion again.

“Um, uh, yeah.” Marc didn’t have the guts to look him in the eyes and kept looking down at the ground as he fumbled for the pen in his jacket pocket.  Marc handed him the pen.   The man rolled up his left sleeve and wrote ‘Q&A with Barbara, 8:30’ on the inside of his wrist.

“Thanks very much.” He handed the pen back.

“No, no, problem.” Marc’s hand shook a bit as he grabbed the pen and it dropped to the carpet.  “Oh excuse me.”  Marc picked up the pen and stood up walking away from the gate towards the restroom. 

“He’s not handicapped at all!” Marc thought to himself, splashing water on his face.  “Why is this man in my head?  Just move on, Marc.  He’s dressed silly, so what?”

When he returned to the gate the man was gone.  Nowhere to be seen!  Marc looked everywhere and reluctantly boarded the flight stealing looks back up the jetway as he entered the plane and flew home. 

~--------------~

Part II: Marc’s life changes dramatically, all because of this one awkward man.