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Recently, I was travelling home by train for Christmas. Many students were travelling, and older persons, too. The trains were largely full, and there was a great deal of 'people-watching' to do. I took my seat near the front of the railcar, and I started to notice a strong, unpleasant smell.
My initial reaction was "Whoa, somebody needs to do a 'hockey wash' ", because I smelled a very strong body odour like uncared-for sports equipment. I had noticed a young man getting on the train whose appearance reminded me of Kurt Cobain. He had longish dark blond hair, somewhat greasy, and an unshaven face. His face was quite attractive -- again, like Kurt Cobain. Looking around, I saw that he was sitting behind me. He had taken off his shoes, and was wearing wool socks. These were the main 'odour culprits'. The woman sitting beside him eventually changed seats and sat opposite me facing the back. She told me later that she saw that her seat-successor was miserable for the entire lengthy trip.
I fought against the impulse to speak rudely. Bearing with the smell for a few minutes, I checked about accessing my luggage, and was told by the attendant that I could. I went up front and fished out two pairs of new white gym socks I had received for 'early Christmas'. Never worn. Freshly washed. I brought these back to my seat. After a few minutes, I turned and crouched in the aisle next to the young fellow so our eyes were approximately level. I stated that his feet smelled really strong, and that he needed either to put his shoes back on, or to change his socks. "I mean this in the friendliest way," I said. I offered the two pairs of socks -- "Freshly washed, never worn: Merry Christmas!" He declined the socks, saying with the meekest sigh, "No thanks," but acquiesced with no argument to putting his shoes back on his feet. The sigh he made was disarming, as he made no protest at all. Then, he went back to playing video games on his hand-held console. This console absorbed his attention for the rest of the trip.
That was my attempt to reach the 'gamey gaming guy'. Whatever his take on the experience, and I hope he takes no offense if he reads this, his response had reached me. I realized that my offer of socks was somewhat pretentious, though sincere, and driven by a desire to look good to myself rather than to be of help or service. You know what I should have done differently? I should have asked this young fellow his name. It's not "Kurt Cobain", and it's not "gaming guy". He has a name. I should have asked him for it, and told him my own. I also should have made some small talk first. Who knows? Maybe he was coming home after a rough time on the streets? Maybe his hygiene was not entirely under his control? Who can judge? I tried to be compassionate but flailed and fumbled because I was doing it mostly out of self-regard, somewhat unbeknownst even to myself. What am I most proud of doing? I asked him to put on his shoes, and he did, and it helped everybody on the train. Including him. Including me.
