Tonight, while heading home on the bus, Mark and I sat down next to this drunk Aboriginal-looking dude in an M. Bison costume. He was saying something to me, but I didn't immediately understand what it was that he was saying.
It sounded like, "Cool off." I thought he wanted me to move away from him because I was sitting too close. "Cool off," he said again.
After a couple of minutes, I realised he had said, "Cool outfit." But I had taken too long to understand him and it was far too late to say, "Thank you," so I didn't. I felt kinda bad. Partly because I had failed to acknowledge him, and partly because my outfit was not that cool.
He later got off the bus, and in the vacant seat he left next to me, Mark and I spied a small puddle, complemented by additional drops of liquid. Mark convinced me that it was vomit, over my original hypothesis that perhaps it was urine. I prefer to believe it was puke, but not by a lot.
