The Shoe Scrape

Today, I witnessed possibly the most disgusting spectacle I've seen in the last five or more years ... all while walking to the restroom in my office building.

In order to reach said restroom, I had to traverse an interior walkway that, because of a wall of windows from 1st to 4th floor, allows for a full view of the parking lot outside of our building. Crossing as I was, I aimlessly stared outside, wishing for the sun, a walk, and my mp3 player (currently playing Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith).

[Side note: Go buy the book above right now. Any book that begins with "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains" and includes the five Bennet sisters being skilled in the "deadly arts" is a necessary read for all.]

My eye landed on three patriotically-clad people walking through our parking lot - two men and one woman. I watched with some disinterest as one man and the woman walked a bit ahead of the other man ... until I noticed the lagger step off to one side, farther away from the couple. My mild interest quickly turned to horror as the man then put his hand over his nose and proceeded to attempt a bushman's blow in public.

Now ... a bushman's blow is essentially ... blowing your nose without tissue or Kleenex or other suitable receptacle. Oh yeah ... make that face. It was dis-gus-TING! The attempt was apparently ... uh ... fruitful ... since he then flung the contents of his hand to the ground. Yeeah.

But wait ... there's more.

He stopped a moment, considering his hand. The flinging didn't quite do the job so he then lifted up the back of his shoe and scraped his hand on it.

Another look ... another scrape ... a few steps ... look ... scrape ... step ... look ... scrape ... step. The man's impromptu booger dance continued until he had scraped his hand off about six times.

It may have continued longer but he was then, thankfully, out of my view. Alas, not out of my memory.

I know not where the urban bushman went, I only know this - Watch where you step in downtown Grand Rapids people; between the spitters and the lagging bushman, it's a snotty mess out there.



[And lest anyone misunderstand my use of the term bushman as being racial, I'm talking about the action and nothing else, in fact, the bushman blowing today was Caucasian. Disgusting habits know no color boundary.]