Son of Snow Globe

I took my daughter to the city to see my tiny new office, and then we hopped the Cannonball to Montauk. One of the things I love about the 7 train out to Hunters Point (or Hunterspoint, depending on whether you're grammatically correct or the LIRR) is the melting pot you always encounter en route. This trip did not disappoint me. We got off at the afterthought that is the Hunters Point subway stop, and started walking towards the exit. There's one bench halfway up the platform, usually empty. Today, we had a special guest star: Son of Snow Globe. A rather scruffy looking gent had plopped himself down in the middle seat, with several shopping bags on one side of him and a pair of white socks on the other. He was dousing his bare feet with athlete's foot powder. Not just a sprinkle between the toes, mind you, but half a container of Desenex on each. It was actually heaping up on his feet, the air was redolent of mentholated powder, and he was intently sprinkling even more on. He must've been there for hours, just grooming his packed powder. And incidents like this are why I will fight anyone who claims that the subways are unsanitary filthpots.