He got off at China Town

This morning I saw an old man with an erection. He was about 75 and had just gotten on the Red Line train that runs from Glenmont into town. I think he got on at New York Avenue. No, it must have been Union Station because the train had gone underground by then. It wasn’t one of the sunlit outdoor stations. No. No, it was definitely one of the darker, below ground ones in the city. I immediately saw it. The erection. It was a giant erection and the front of his loose Khaki pants bowed outward as if they contained… well… a bow. The poor guy had to stand, what with there not being many seats available. Or, perhaps, it was that his condition made it uncomfortable for him to sit.

So he stood there in the middle of the train, where everyone could see him, holding onto the pole. Of course I’m referring to the metal poles on the train that are there for you to hold onto, not the ah…  Never mind that.

I noticed that the old man’s erection caught the attention of several other passengers. I knew they saw it. I could tell by the way their eyes grew wide and then they sort of looked away.

The old man wore a great grimace on his face and seemed not embarrassed at all by his situation but simply annoyed. Actually, annoyed doesn’t quite seem strong enough. I might dare say he was very annoyed. Yes, that’s it. He was very annoyed by the thing. He looked as if he was gearing up to shout, “Hey, you kids, get off my lawn!” Except that this old man would shout, “Dagnabbit, this darn penis!”

As I sat there, staring at the enormous tent in the front of his slacks – and I wasn’t at all afraid to look at it, for I was sure my face displayed a cool objectivity, not desire or horror, which would have been inappropriate – I couldn’t help but speculate what the rest of his morning must have been like and how he had come to this…  ah, predicament.

I’d heard of morning wood, but that’s when you’re young and prone to such things. When you’re that old doesn’t it have to be a special occasion?

Surely, it was drug-induced. Without question, yes. A hard-on of this immensity on this old an individual only could have been achieved by pharmaceutical means. It was hardly worth considering any further.

Did he still have it from the night before? I wondered. Surely, he’d slept on his back. I mean, obviously.

Had his wife slipped him some ground-up pills in his steak and eggs that morning? Had he then slipped his wife some of his steak and eggs?

Clearly, he was on his way to the doctor. Would the receptionist ask him the reason for his visit?

Surely not. He’d be shown right in, don’t you think? No explanation necessary.

I don’t know how doctors remedy that type of affliction, but I hope it doesn’t involve much initial discussion. That old man sure didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk about it.




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