The Person I'm Next To Is Excited, By Everything

I'm next to this dude. He is in his mid 40s perhaps, and has a bright blue shirt, and a black tie. The tie is tight, but his collar is loose, so I can see some of his neck skin right next to the knot of his tie. His skin is sweaty. Not hot outside sweaty, or like a healthy I just ran a few miles sweaty, but like southern lawyer in a 50s film sweaty. Parts of him are just slick and others are dry, seemingly at random. He is typing in a sporadic fashion too. These quick frantic bursts, then periods of slow thoughtful index finger taps.
His phone is ringing. Holy shit, he talks just like he sweats and types. Its like this high pitched light speed burst followed by a meandering slow low tone. He is upset about something, but I can't make out what he is saying. He hangs up, and goes back to the typing. Now the typing feels urgent, and his face is intense. What's going on? Has someone been kidnapped? Are his stocks plummeting? He is getting up!
Ok, he is talking to the barrista. Oh. He is ordering his coffee just like he was talking on the phone, and looking at the menu with that same intense expresion. I guess nothing crazy is happening. This is just how he is. Man, boo.
He was so much more interesting 10 mintues ago.

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The Person I'm Next To Has Caused Me To Explode With Self Hate

I'm next to this guy. He isn't really remarkable, jeans, collared shirt, pullover sweater, brown eyes, brown hair, two eyes, two ears, five fingers, five toes, et cetera. I mean he is wearing shoes, so you know I really don't know about the toes, regardless of the point remains, normal guy. He is at a coffee shop shopping on the for desks with his laptop. While I quietly infringe on his privacy by peering over his shoulder I see that he keeps coming back to a certain desk. It's a strange piece of motorized furniture that transforms from a traditional desk height to standing height with the push of a button. This future furniture is quickly driving me insane. It starts innocently enough, the desk poses a question: Why would anyone need an ascending descending desk? I assume it's a health issue, still curious I decide to google that shit. This is where things rapidly spiral away from me. Searching for this desk, I stumble across several articles on the dan...

The Person I’m Next to has Created a Strange Logical Model of the Universe

I’m next to this guy. He is sitting on a bench next to a crutch. He has unruly grey hair shoved under a faded baseball cap, several days of a beard, and his clothing is obviously well worn. He is asking folks that pass by if they can help out with some change. In turn, folks that pass by are deliberately not looking at him. I don't have any cash, but this ignoring-the-guy shit tugs on certain heartstrings. I do have the vaguest sketch of a conscience. So, when it’s my turn to turn him down, I look his way and say, “Sorry man, good luck though.” This angers the man, “Really dude,” he replies, “well I’ll tell you a secret. Karma is a bitch.” He then asks the next person for some change. I pass by, feeling weird. He wasn’t yelling at the people who ignored him, should I have just done that? I am unsure. I contemplate my route back from lunch and how best to cowardly avoid the street he is posted upon, and suddenly something bothers me. His karma curse doe...

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I am next to this svelte gentleman ordering at a coffee shop. He is very thin and has accepted this fact. He is dressed in fitted clothes that accentuate his overabundance of underabundance. His shirt is a white button-down, with the sleeves rolled crisply to mid-forearm. It is tucked into pants that are... problematic, more on this later. He has tan loafers on, and he has eschewed socks. He has a lanky confidence to his stance; leaning over the counter splaying his angles with a social comfort that I envy. Moreover, he seems nice, chatting nonchalantly as he orders his coffee. No soy milk? Oh, no problem, I’ll just take it black, thanks for checking though. So, pants. They are nice pants. They are well fitted and cuffed to about mid-ankle. They complete his look, and despite this next sentence that look is a timeless cool dude sort of look. The pants are bright orange. Very bright, like poisonous toad bright. Like a freshly made traffic cone, ready to avert...

The Person I am Next to is Saving Over 3 Hours Annually

I am next to this guy. He is weathering a heathered purple tee, fitted tan jeans, and gray canvas shoes. He has a scruffy beard, big headphones, and expressive eyebrows. Eyebrows that just gave me a condescending waggle. This waggle is, presumably, referencing my use of sidewalks. We are in a park, and in the fashion of most public greens, the sidewalks are meandering devices, more concerned with rose smelling than pedestrian efficiency. But, Tan Jeans is unconvinced by their suggestion of an idle pace. Our paths cross as he enters the park. We seem to be headed in the same direction. I am bound by these fascist sidewalks, this intrepid son of Magellan has plotted a new course. A straight fucking line. This is where he shoots me that patronizing look. Then, he boldly steps from concrete. Shocked and cowed by the genius of his revolutionary trailblazing, I sheepishly fall behind his blistering pace, herded along a preset path. He reaches the edge of the pa...

The People I'm Next to are a Baldness Gradient

I am next to this line of men. They are single filing it out of a restaurant and walking by my table. They seem to be a group of office folks on lunch, and as such are dressed in a fairly heterogeneous sort of business casual fashion. By this I mean it’s a polo parade. Additionally, their hair (where applicable) is all a very similar shade. As they pass, I sip my coffee and realize I am witnessing at a strange phenomenon. The first man is trail blazingly bald, leading the pack with a shiny, aerodynamic dome that cuts a wind tunnel for the dudes behind him. There may be a little stubble by the ears, and in the back, but it is clear his follicles closed shop a while ago. The next man is bald in a skewed mullet sort of way; business in the back, slip and slide upfront. His sides and back are close-cropped but have definite and sustained coverage. Up top and in the front, there is nothing left. He is pulling it off. He has come to terms with his personal...

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The Person I’m Next To Unexpectedly Resorted to Brutality

I’m next to this man. His look suggests mildness. He has sandy hair just short enough to stick straight out, giving his head a great blurry halo. His facial features are similarly rounded with all gentle curves. He is the type of guy that would be very easy to imagine as a stuffed animal version of himself. When I first see him, he is standing in front of an automatic paper towel dispenser in a coffee shop. He has a tablet in one hand, and a coffee mug in the other. He looks at a nearby counter, which is a bit wet, then back at his tablet. After a few seconds of consternation, he realizes he can spare his electronics and just set down the coffee. He chuckles at his indecision, then looks over at me with an expression that says ‘oh silly me’. I reply with a nod that says, ‘I-recognize-your-former-dilemma-and-I-applaud-your-decision-but-can-we-maybe-get-this-towel-train-moving-my-own-mug-has-some-coffee-spilling-down-its-side-and-I’d like-to-handle-it’. He ...

The Person I'm Next To Is One With His Tamale

I'm next to this guy who is sitting in front of a styrofoam plate of tamales, under the coiled Christmas lights of a food truck's tent. He's here by himself, aside from the four tamale friends that he has briefly found. He's "not a small man," which is my polite way of saying that he is quite fat. He's shaped like a wide diamond. Aside from the protrusions you would expect from him being both human and male, he'd form a pretty good triangle if you folded him hamburger style. But this is about tamales, not hamburgers. He is eating his tamales slowly with the care and grace of someone basking in a rare moment of transcendence. There's a hint of something else, too--as if he's taking care to avoid a catastrophic misstep. The mix is about four parts "that feeling of slowly lowering yourself into a perfect bath," one part "action hero figuring out the color scheme of timebomb wires." After each bite, he closes his eyes and quietl...

The Person I’m Next to Might Own a Battle Axe

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The Person I am Next To is More Apologetic than is Necessary

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