A Broken Man

On a recent train ride I had the misfortune of seeing one of the most broken down men I’ve ever seen. First, a middle-aged woman who looked like a barrel sat down to the opposite of me. Moments later, a guy whom I presumed to be her husband appeared. He was wearing a backpack, a messenger bag over his shoulder, carrying a trolley in his left hand, and an oversized trunk in the other.

My best guess was that his stuff was in the backpack and messenger bag, while the other two pieces of luggage belonged to his wife who, for whatever reason, was carrying only a handbag. That handbag looked comically small, given her enormous volume. After her husband was done putting the two trunks in the overhead storage, he finally sat down, minutes after his wife had done so, who was already busy emptying a bottle of cola.
The guy was in pretty decent shape for his age, certainly much more attractive than his whale of a wife. His torment didn’t end here. On this train there were power plugs near the air conditioning over your head. Strangely enough, the woman handed her husband the charger, and was pointing a finger up, gesturing him to stand up and plug it in, so that she could charge her phone, and while away some time on Facebook. There is the absurd feminist statement that housewives are nothing but “slaves” when in reality many wives treat their husbands like cattle. In fact, I would not be surprised if she was more affectionate toward their pets than him.

That couple got off before me, and I witnessed the same in reverse. To make herself useful, the woman unplugged the charger herself, which was her entire contribution. Then she left the compartment, and was outside before her husband managed to get the trunks down from the overhead storage. She was proudly strutting ahead, while her mule of a husband was dragging her luggage. It was a sad sight. Don’t ever become that guy.