The fools they are as men

Before I start I would like to make it clear that the "men" mentioned in this title are not the ones of the "Hi, I have a penis and I like chopping wood" variety but of the general "animals related to monkeys" species. Just wanted to make that clear, continue reading!

As careful readers of this bilog (NOTE; I'm trying to introduce this as a new way of saying blog, you know, like bi-atch instead of bitch, is it catching on?) may know, I have a job. A job that includes way too many responsibilities for the amount of money they pay me and a nice, but homophobic, boss, but still a job. A job I have to get to. On sundays. Just bear with me.

To get to the place where I work I usally take a tram (which didn't drive last sunday because of the marathon, no problem I walked) and then the subway. The subway drives through a trainstation. Usually I have to wait about 10 minutes or something before the subway I need arrives. Honestly, I'm getting to a point.

When I entered the platform (does one enter a platform? I'm not sure) a woman was standing there with two little girls. At first I assumed they were waiting for a train or a subway, but when a man ran up the stairs and started screaming at the woman I quickly figured out what was going on. The man and the woman were either divorced or trying desperately to get to that stage and this was that magical moment where the kids were to be turned over from one parent to the other.

Or, as you could also call it; the moment the shit hits the fan.

Since the man was screaming at his (soon to be) ex-wife, it was fairly easy (if not impossible) for all the other people around them not to hear what was going on. The two had apparently agreed that the mom would bring the children to the station, where the dad would then take them home. Apparently the two weren't on the level of allowing eachother into their homes.

However, when making the appointment, the two had apparently forgot to specify where they were going to meet. The result was that the mom was standing on the platform with the two kids, while the dad was waiting at the main entrance. And, from what I got from the screaming, both had been there for over half an hour.

Usually when a mix up like that occurs, you get worried, you try to call people on cell phones (apparently they also were not on the level of calling eachother), and when you eventually do find eachother, there's a feeling of relief that nobody died. Or maybe that's just me, I'm a drama queen. But when you're in the middle of your divorce, apparently you don't feel that way.

Out of the two, the collective platform sympathy went to the woman. She remained calm while her ex-hubby screamed. Her ex-hubby lost even more valuable points by the sort of sentences he barfed out; "I'm giving you extra service by coming to this platform!" he yelled, "Do you know how much time you've stolen from me?". The fact that he had the worst (nouveau)-riche accent I have ever heard, didn't do much good either.

The entire thing could have been amusing in a disturbing way, were it not for the girls. From what I understand, a lot of kids of divorced parents for a long time keep on hoping that maybe they will come back together after all, add to that the fact that it's never fun to see two people you love scream to eachother, and you have the perfect nightmare. While their dad was screaming at their mom, the two girls wandered off to the end of the platform where they both cried like only little girls can cry; hard and heartbreaking.

When my subway finally arrived, the guy also finally decided he had enough of his own screaming, took the kids and left. Leaving me with the impression that his two daughters will probably be screwed up for the rest of their lives. Now, I may be getting too Dr. Phil-ish here, but all of this made me really, really sad.


Crap, I forgot to put jokes in this thing.