Grifdog

As I was sitting on the Orange Line heading back home from another day of school, a tall, Caucasian male walked in and sat down next to me. The scary thing about this was that there were at least four other open seats that he could have chosen to sit at very easily, but nope, he passed them up to sit specifically by me. The creeps are just attracted to my scent or something weird like that. Anyways, you should have seen this guy. He was dressed like a 5 year old. He was wearing a striped polo, gym shorts, a Boston Red Sox hat, and even had the nerve to wear socks with open toed sandals. Of course I also noticed that he smelled like a mixture of UV Vodka and Busch Light, so I figured maybe that would be the reason why his fashion sense was lacking. Then I realized that it was 2 PM and this thought immediately was replaced with me wondering why the hell this man needed to be drunk this early in the day. Not even ten seconds after arriving to this thought, the man spoke to me. Well, he attempted to speak to me but had a little bit of trouble because of his slurred speech and heavy eyes. I think the only reason he didn’t speak to me when he immediately got on the train was because he fell asleep for the minute that I was examining his horrific choice of fashion. The guy told me his name was Matt Griffiths and that the 5-0 were out to get him because he was “2 L 2 L.” Since no sane person would understand this, I asked him what the hell he was talking about and before explaining this to me, he went on a rant about how he hated the entire state of Indiana. He never got to a valid point, but he humored me so I just sat there and nodded. “Grifdog,” Matt’s nickname that he obtained in college because of his “wolfish” looks, finished his hateful Indiana speech and came back to the meaning behind the 5-0 chasing him. I guess “2 L 2 L” means “too legit too live.” While he explained this to me, he even used hand signals for the number 2 and the letter L. This man was completely insane. At this point, I started getting officially creeped out. Grifdog seemed harmless, but he had no clue how to act in public. He did not adhere to any of the unwritten laws that one usually would in this world. One more stop. I couldn’t wait. Thankfully, Matt Griffiths was so drunk that he once again fell asleep midsentence while he was describing play-by-play, last nights Red Sox game. The train stopped at Midway, it’s last stop, and I quickly got off. Since then, I have learned to avoid these incredibly awkward situations by standing up for the whole 30 minute train ride home. If Matt Griffiths hasn't ran into a moving vehicle or the 5-0 yet again, I wish him the best of luck with his life and hopes he finds someone just as legit as he is.