Have I ever mentioned how much I love my car? The downside of employment, I have found, is that it means I use public transport more, and you know that’s never a good thing with my ability to find SPOTDs.

Going home from the University the other day, I boarded a tram just before 6pm, toward the end of the rush hour period. The tram was reasonably full, with most seats occupied, and nobody standing. I found a seat toward the back part of the tram and sat down, already zoning out into a level of glassy-eyed trance that prevents the SPOTDs of the world from speaking to me, as seems to regularly happen on public transport. A woman’s raised voice caught my attention about 20 seconds later when the doors opened at the next stop…

SPOTD: “F**ING MOTHERF***ING DOORS MAKING F***ING LOADS OF MOTHERF***ING F***ING NOISE! F***ING DOORS!”

I, like most people, looked over in that direction, to see a barefoot woman about 50 years old rummaging through a large paper bag, shaking the bag erratically, and continuing to abuse the doors for opening. Her hair was lank and dirty, and her faced was lined by years of harsh weather or substance abuse or both. Quickly figuring that she was most likely a homeless nutcase, most people turned back to their papers or staring out the window again.

Being close, I was able to see words written on the paper bag, and was trying to figure out what they read - not an easy task because it was upside down from my perspective, and being shaken about. I was finally able to figure out the words were “Patient Clothing”, which further supported the theory she was not right in the head. Reaching into the bag, she pulled forth the footwear of choice for the long-term unemployed crazies - a pair of scuffed pink mocassins. After some fumbling, she was able to slip them onto her feet, and stopped swearing briefly, seemingly appeased. Looking resplendent, she was now attired in a dirty black T-shirt, a pair of steel-grey pants made from that “parachute” material so popular in the early 90’s, and the aforementioned dirt-smeared pink mocassins.

Due to the cool weather, the heating in the tram was on, making the tram about three degrees warmer than outside. The crazy woman started to rock back and forth, grabbing at her T-shirt collar, pulling it away from her neck to cool herself down. She started to loudly complain about the temperature shortly thereafter, yelling at the tram driver who had no chance of hearing her from his position at the opposite end of the double-tram…

SPOTD: “WHY’S THIS TRAM SO F***ING HOT? F***ING HOT IN HERE! F***ING HOT! WHAT THE F*** IS IT SO F***ING HOT FOR? GEEZ IT’S HOT! REALLY F***ING HOT!”

Rocking back and forth a few more times to cool herself, it became evident to her that there was only one solution - getting undressed, a task she performed by removing her shirt without a second thought. Wearing no bra, her breasts were exposed to everyone in the tram, but she made no effort at modesty, remaining seated normally.

I’ve never seen a group of people more intently stare out a window or scrutinise the advertising posters more intently than immediately her shirt came off. The crazy woman, now elevated to SPOTD, sat happily in the seat as though being topless in public were as normal as reading a paper on the way home from work. Everyone else on the tram, on the other hand was torn between sneaking looks to make sure their eyes had not deceived them and that she was really naked, and not wanting to look. It’s fair to say that this woman was no supermodel, and the number of people looking would be no doubt very different if, say, Elle Macpherson or Sarah O’Hare decided to get their top off, and it was all extremely concerning.

Above her breasts, she had a couple of medical sucker pads attached to her - the type with a small metal node that is connected to wires to monitor you while in hospital. Combined with the patient clothing bag, the most likely explanation is that she had escaped from a hospital, pulling the monitor wires from herself, getting her clothing out of the bedside drawer and walking out the door.

A few people further up the tram began to notice that there was a topless woman on the tram and began sniggering and pointing it out to one another. The SPOTD became irate with this disrespectful attitude and, rather than putting her shirt back on, began yelling at them…

SPOTD: “WE’RE ALL THE F***ING SAME LOVEY! WE’RE ALL BORN NAKED! YOU’VE GOT THE SAME AS ME! YOURS MIGHT BE A BIT BIGGER BUT YOU’VE GOT ‘EM TOO! WHAT’S YOUR F***ING PROBLEM? WE AIN’T BORN WITH CLOTHES ON!”

The stress of yelling at people became too much for her in the end, and the most likely solution was a cigarette. The SPOTD didn’t have any herself, so asked the woman sitting closest to her if she had a cigarette to give her. The other woman refused to respond, ignoring her completely, as did the next three people she asked, myself included. Getting no response from those seated closest to her, the SPOTD got up and wandered through the rear half of the tram, approaching people to see if they would give her a cigarette.

After a minute or so of stony silence or abuse from the 20 or so people she asked, the SPOTD finally returned to her seat, still with no cigarette. A social do-gooder (SDG), possibly competing for the SPOTD award (or possibly just a really desperate pervert), started up a conversation with the topless woman. He seemed to be a little concerned that she’d escaped from hospital and should go back there, and so steered the conversation to try and find out where she was supposed to be.

SDG : “Hi. Are you okay? Are you alright?”

SPOTD: “Yeah. Are you alright? Nobody’s got any damn cigarettes. You got one?”

SDG: “No. I don’t smoke. Are you going to a hospital?”

SPOTD: “No. Just want a cigarette?”

SDG: “Where are you going to?”

SPOTD: “Why? Where are you going to?”

SDG: “Just up a bit further to the shopping centre. Going to get a chicken burger. Do you reckon you’d want a chicken burger?”

SPOTD: “Nah. Want a cigarette. F***ing hot in here.”

SDG: “Well, I just figured you might be going somewhere and a bit lost, that’s all.”

SPOTD: “Nah. I’ll go with you though. See if anyone on the street has a smoke for me.”

At this point, because she was going to get off the tram, she put her T-shirt back on (much to the relief of everyone who was getting sick of not being able to look at anything other than what they were looking at when the shirt originally came off) and stood up to get off the tram at the next stop with the SDG. A few seconds later, they were both off the tram, with everyone else who got off the stop briskly walking in the opposite direction to prevent the SPOTD from tagging along with them.

The next minute or so was one of those rare moments when complete strangers on public transport all look at one another having a bonding experience, knowing they’ve been part of a unique experience, with a tale to tell others when they get home.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my car?

Categories: SPOTD