Half-naked, tattooed and moderately toasted, a man had his train ride ended in midstream. High on the second level of the third carriage of a train bound for an endless loop of the network, the passengers were treated to a full forced diatribe. Running the gamut of emotions it remains unclear how much if anything was decipherable or at the very least, coherent. The passengers flocked and gathered to listen in on what the man was shouting and slurring on.
A woman in white capri pants and not fixed to her seat from the spectacle waved down two police officers. Their patrol of the waiting section of Lidcombe was taken to the upper level. As one negotiated an open can of beer the other persuaded the man down and out of the car. From the reaction of both it would appear that the man had been handling himself to a point of, well, no one actually witnessed it first hand. At least to everyone but the man. Offering to shake the hand of one of the policemen, the man was refused and the officer made sure to keep his distance from the mysteriously addled.
Written on Tuesday, 23 December 2003