"Alan"

Often we wake to our morning routines unaware of the discoveries that the day may bring. For me today was such a day. It is not yet 9:00am and already I've encountered an individual, a complete stranger if you will, who may have forever changed my life. That individual is Alan. Now, I never actually met Alan per se. I had only heard his name screamed a hundred times by his weary, distraught father. I first laid eyes on Alan as I was waiting for the bus on Diversey Avenue. Across the street I spot a portly raggedy man (imagine the comic book store owner on The Simpsons wearing his Sunday best) and standing next to this man was a short, bundled-up, faceless ball of raging energy. Yep, you guessed it... Alan. I felt my blood pressure rise immediately as I witnessed the youngster break free from his father's grasp and proceed to dart across the heavy morning traffic. The cries of "Alan, wait!" allowed us to be formally introduced. After the successful and often underestimated task of crossing the street... Alan and his father joined me as the only pathetic commuters waiting at this particular bus stop. Thankfully, our wait was short... here comes the bus. Now, one would think that since I was stationed at this particular bus stop before anyone else had arrived that I would qualify for being the first one to board the bus. Makes sense, right? Well, not according to Alan. As the bus hissed to a stop a stream of passengers attempted to depart hastily in order to catch the "EL train screaming over the tracks above. However, before these passengers have a chance to exit the bus... Alan makes his move. His scrawny, nimble stature allows him to squeeze through the door of the bus prematurely thus creating a confused bottleneck of commuters. It's a tangled mess of Caribou coffees and iPods. "Alan!" screams the father. "Wait your turn!." These words are water off a duck's back. Alan darts through the crowded bus and proudly chooses his favorite seat. The irony of which we will later see. As I graciously wait my turn to board the bus, I begin to get a sick feeling in my stomach. I pay my fare and proceed to the only available seat on the bus. Directly across the aisle and only inches from the Tasmanian Devil himself... Alan The Terrible. I think to myself... it's only a few blocks... everything will be okay. For a few seconds everything seemed to be going smoothly. Alan sat quietly in his seat staring out the window. But that wasn't meant to last. A crack-like mixture of Fruity Pebbles and orange juice must have been flowing through little Alan's veins for he proceeded to bolt from his seat and run wind-sprints up and down the aisle of the bus. And not quiet adorable wind-sprints but those that are accompanied by a young child's shriek. Oh god only a few more stops and then I can flee this pre-pubescent terror and retreat to the confines of my warm, quiet apartment. Why do we keep stopping? Does EVERYONE drive to work down the same street? Hey, Coca Cola delivery man, could you have a bigger fricking truck? Our bus can't pass you! The light is green... GO GO GO! A few more blocks to go... "Alan, sit down!" "Alan, sit down!" "Alan, sit down! "Alan, sit down!" One more block... oh god yes here's my stop. I scurried towards the exit door. Screw the little green light. I burst through and begin running. Running for my life. When I arrived home here and caught my breath I couldn't help but glance every now and then at the knife sitting on my kitchen counter. If self-castration was the answer to the problem of bringing more little "Alan"s into this world. Then god help me... I was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

-Jonesy