At the close of the last record….no, wait, that’s The Completion Backward Principle. We had just left the smoking ruins of a public bathroom at O’Hare Airport, and ironically, I needed a cigarette. As a member of the Last Oppressed Minority, I had to venture out beyond the security area so I could stand out front, choking on bus fumes and having my ears assaulted by jets taking off and foreigners careening by in hotel courtesy vans and taxis. Speaking of which and jumping ahead a bit, after spending two weeks speaking pidgin Italian to people who spoke broken English, I come home to find Asians who don’t speak English, Mexicans who don’t speak English, Iranians who don’t speak English….what the fuck is up with that?

So I’m hanging at the concrete splodeydope barrier with another smoker, and I notice this guy who looks like any average bum on the street except for the incongruous ID badge on a chain dangling from his neck. He’s wearing filthy black parachute pants, a filthy polo shirt, and a filthy baseball cap. He’s got a butt going, and he’s kind of shuffling around in a circle, examining his upper arm, which is covered with scabs. After a bit, he starts very meticulously picking at the scabs. I look at the guy next to me, who just rolls his eyes. I look up and see a couple of construction guys on a break up on a scaffold who are also watching this little drama unfold.  Meanwhile, Beau Brummel is still making tiny little picks at the scabs. He finds something interesting apparently, and takes his thumb and forefinger and, with the same studiousness with which he’s been examining his arm, brings it up to his mouth and pops it in. No. OK, he did not just do that. I look around. Nothing. He examines the arm for a little bit, then decides maybe the pickin’s are better on the other arm. It’s then that I notice his other arm is covered with scabs.  This is starting to get a bit surreal. I told you it got funky in Chicago.

After a while of him snacking on the other arm, another guy who looks relatively normal walks up to him and bums a light.  Then he stands around and has a conversation with the guy. Mind you, I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it almost looks like the second guy knows him, and he’s talking nonchalantly with him while the guy looks at his scabby arm. I don’t know if I’m making this clear, but this whole bizarre episode is taking place within a context of complete normality.  It’s like the guy is standing on his head farting bb’s while everyone walks by. “Hey, Bob, howzit hangin’?”

Eventually, the second guy leaves. Scabby looks at one arm, then at the other, and then….the piece de resistance. I guess it must have been time for dessert.  He reaches up and puts the same two fingers in his nose. Oh, no. No, no, no. Noonan!! Miss it!! Noonan!! Mi…….Argh. Now, you have to know me to appreciate this. Normally, I have no fear. I’ll ask the questions no one else will ask. I’ll go right up to someone and say something stupid, just for the sake of comedy. This time….not so much.  I suppose I could have walked over and said in my best Bob McKenzie voice, “Hey.  You’re kinda weird, eh?” But he had that badge……..

Next time: American Airlines takes our money and leaves us permanently crippled.