It Puts the Lotion in the Basket

I must admit, I don't really mind public transportation. Sure it's got a few problems, but as long as you can get past the panhandlers and come to realize you probably won't make it on time, it can be pretty entertaining. One of my favorite stories:

One morning I get on the Red Line to head to work. I'm standing there reading the newspaper and I overhear this conversation between the woman and man sitting a few feet from me. Normally, I don't really care what other people are talking about, but this guy was so loud the entire car couldn't help but hear every word he said.

And let me say this: he was weird...really weird. Like, "It puts the lotion in the basket" weird.

He was wearing this dirty old gray jacket, two inch thick glasses with the old brown plastic rims and a tan knit cap with his thinning, curly brown hair sticking out. He had just met this woman on the EL and had been talking about the benefits of mothballs or something stupid. Anyway, this woman was being nice, probably nicer than she had to be, and had been engaging this guy in conversation. That's when it took a turn for the creepy:

Red Line Creeper: Is your grandmother still alive?
Woman: No, she passed away a long time ago.
Red Line Creeper: I was really close to my grandmother. I was visiting her one day and everything was fine. Then the next week she got really sick and died, just like that.
Woman: Oh, I'm sorry.
Red Line Creeper: Yeah, the funeral was a closed casket, so I never got to see her again. Years later I went to her gravesite and all I could think about was how I wanted to see her. I talked to some of the cemetary workers about digging her up so I could give her a hug and say goodbye for the last time, but they said they weren't allowed to do that.
Woman: That's the creepiest fucking thing I've ever heard in my life.