Tag Archives: Jeremy Irons

Monday, November 10, 2014 – Inbound – trainspottingChicago



Good morning. I’m on the 7:50AM into the City.

It’s a warm morning for early November, but the chills will come later this week. I’m in the rear quiet car. I found that I am tired of jostling with the morning scrum and fight for a seat near the front, just to race to the office. Good thing come to those who pace.

A younger, very handsome, Jeremy Irons with black hair sits across from me. He is a brooding, serious looking fellow in blue jeans a black long sleeved shirt and a black, down insulated ski vest that was haute-coulture fashion when the A-Team was a number one but on TV. The likeness to the venerated actor is uncanny. An illegitimate son? I want this guy’s autograph and a selfie.

A bald but goateed Taye Diggs is here. Our fellow is in his mid forties, dressed in black slacks, a nondescript jacket and a black attache case. He just put on a ski cap. The other awake patrons, mostly from the very very nice town train stop, are keeping an eye on him over their newspapers and iCrackerBots.

Also here are Eric Idle, Christopher Lee, Ellyn Burnstyn, Lata Mangeshkar and Mike Singletary. All are armed.

I’m sorry I haven’t been posting lately. As the year winds down, I will make more of an effort. I am finally caught up with work stuff that In was doing in lieu of people watching. This apology is to myself, but you get to read it.

Happy Monday. Safe travels.

Thursday, February 13, 2014 – Homeward Bound – trainspottingChicago

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Good afternoon.

On the thawing 3:58PM out of the City. Fifth car from the front.

One of the regulars on this train is a fellow that reminds me of a Red Hot Chili Pepper roadie, or one of the Blowfish from Hootie and the Blowfish.

I suspect he is bald, on purpose, but is wearing one of those knit-hat skicap things that one would easily find at a head shop of “fair trade” store off of Washington St. in Madison, Wisconsin, right next to the snowboarding/skateboarding shop and across the street from the organic tea place that really sells high-quality marijuana out of the back alley. Sure, everyone knows, including Blowfish here, but even Scott Walker wouldn’t shut down a joint (heh) like that. The head of the Wisconsin GOP owns the property and the renters pay on time and in cash. Mr. Blowfish is an infrequent customer to the place.

He just got off a long day at the office. His dark brown chin-tee (a goatee with no mustache) is peppered with the crust crumbles of the cold pizza he left in the office break room fridge from yesterday. His earring is still shiny silver – he must have had it replaced recently.

Since this is not a quiet car, there are multiple conversations going on. A heavy set Ned Beatty like Deliverance extra is sitting next to a woman who looks a bit like a young Ana Gastmeyer. They are sitting right in front of me. It seems that Ned’s wife got a Groupoff/Fourcubed online coupon for – and this is a quote – an outing in Michigan to a high end shooting range/winery tour to try out new Colt semiautomatics, a chance to win a sub-machine gun, and a tour of a local winery. Ana is intrigued and a little incredulous. She also starts talking about how the SigSauer’s safety system doesn’t lend itself to smooth shooting and asked Ned about other options. Can Ned find out if there’s a shooting-whiskey tasting event happening near Indianapolis that she can invite a date?

Ned starts to notice my interest.

There are two gentlemen sitting in the opposite jump seat. Both are coworkers or friends. Both in their early fifties. The bigger fellow reminds me of Jackie Gleason. The other smaller fellow looks like James Woods with silver hair. Jackie seems to have sex on his mind. With any female, although he did tell his good buddy James that all he asked his wife for Christmas was a good oral sex with release. Out loud. As if nobody else is in the car. James is trying to be less indelicate and tries to change the subject by telling a detailed story about chartering a fishing boat. Both are drinking tall cans of beer.

Also here are a young Chris Tucker, Jeremy Irons, Phil Jackson and Andy Rooney. All are armed. They’re taking Ned’s number for deals on ammo.

Happy Thursday. Safe travels.