Headbanger

It was one of those early spring days, just when it was getting warm, that I was heading to school (as usual). Lemme tell you, I’d much rather be outside in the February sun than being trapped in a stuffy train car, but I guess that’s the downside of college. Or maybe the downside of commuting to college. Yeah, that’s more like it.

So I had just boarded the train and settled down in the partially-soiled greenish fabric seat. The car smelled like a cross between old coffee, puke, and some guy’s overpowering cologne. No, the puke smell was definitely stronger than the rest. I eyed the strangely conspicuous wet brown stain on the seat next to me, shuddered, and tried to put it out of my mind.

I pulled out my laptop to do some work when I heard the strangest hollow-sounding thumping noise. BART cars are notoriously noisy, and since they haven’t been replaced since they were new in the 1970s, such thumping noises usually go forgotten. But this sound was different. It was very close by.

I wasn’t that keen on the idea of writing that essay today, so any distraction seemed like a blessing. I slowly looked behind me and quickly found the source of the thumping. An oldish woman, about two seats behind and to the right of me, was obsessively fixated on thumping her skull with her fist.

I did sort of a double-take due to the strange nature of the situation. I mean, the woman was using her fist to smash herself in the head. Over and over again.

I felt really sorry for the woman. She’s probably homeless, I thought, with an untreatable mental condition that keeps her from being able to control her outbursts. But as I looked closer, I noticed the woman was dressed very nicely, and was typing on a MacBook laptop between thumps. This was odd.

The man behind her was also taking notice of her strange head-slamming. He was trying to read a newspaper and seemed to be having a hard time concentrating. The man finally became fed up, and tapped her on the shoulder. 

“Miss?” he asked her patiently. “Are you okay? You’re... You know...” the man pointed at his head and made a circle motion with his finger.

The woman turned around, smiled pleasantly, and said,

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thanks. I have a big presentation to do. The pounding helps me concentrate. Kickstarts the brain, you know?”

...

Okaaaaaay. Whatever works for you, lady.

I turned back to my computer, and tried to begin typing.

PoundPoundPoundPoundPound. Pause. POUNDPOUNDPOUNDPOUND. Pause.

Hey, at least one of us was concentrating.