It was late October, and I was taking the PATCO home to NJ. The train was packed with baseball fans who were celebrating a win, or lamenting a loss; in Philly the two look the same. The phillies were offering some sort of incentive to attend the game in full costume. And so I smooshed into an aisle seat next to a sloppy Harry Potter and an accurately drunk Captain Sparrow. The surge in passengers and intoxication brought about pairs of police that roamed the trains in an attempt to keep the revelry from becoming something else.
Two officers made their way down our car towards me. Half way down a man attempted to stand without wobbling, and then finally accepted his sloppiness as an inevitability and used the seats in front of him to stand in the aisle, blocking the path of the police. They approached him calmly, and the one officer stood face to face with him. The cop opened his mouth to say something, but before he could the drunk leers forward at him, shouts “YOUR COSTUME SUCKS”, and proceeds to vomit all over the cops pants and shoes.
They got off at the next stop, and I lifted my shoes up onto the seat in case the vomit proved to be more beer than food.