I am often astounded by the things people do in public. This is not to say I myself do not partake in questionable activities from time to time before the eyes of hundreds of strangers, but I try to keep it to a minimum. Every time I venture outside my apartment, though, I never fail to witness some borderline inappropriate behavior by my fellow pedestrians or classmates.
One of the behaviors I have the pleasure of spotting almost daily is a twenty-something-year-old picking their nose. Occasionally, the culprit will at least attempt to be stealth about it by pretending they have an itch that has crept up into their schnoz, but more often than not the said nose picker just digs like there is no tomorrow without even realizing the horrified looks on surrounding faces. Picking your nose was totally normal behavior in preschool and the early years of elementary school when teachers and friends commonly referred to it as ""digging for gold.""
Once you're old enough to vote and pick up a bottle of Pinot Noir after work, though, I think it's time to call it quits and learn a new strategy for taking care of those pesky boogers. Like a Kleenex.
Behold the next all too common behavior: The crotch itch. I can't say I've witnessed many females performing this behavior while takin' a stroll down University Ave, but the men on this campus and everywhere else on the planet have this move down pat. Granted I do not know what it is like to have all that junk chillin' in the front (I'm only familiar with a lil junk in my trunk). But when I am face-to-face talking to a person of the opposite sex, especially when we do not know each other too well, and he blatantly readjusts his groin I am unfailingly shocked. I wonder if he notices my eyes bug out of my head, or if this is just such a common behavior for him it's like second nature. Maybe it's unconscious, and he doesn't even realize he keeps reaching down under and thinks I have some kind of tic that makes my eyes bulge every two minutes.
Hands down the most uncanny behavior I observe almost weekly is the person I am next to in the bathroom at Grainger or what have you going number two on the pot and then casually walking out of the stall without washing their hands. Which is why I carry around a Purell wherever I go and detest holding hands and/or being touched by someone if I don't know for certain that they exercise normal hygiene. God forbid I shake hands with someone who has just wiped their rump.
On the other hand, there are certain things I witness that just put me in the peachiest mood ever. For example, I absolutely love when I observe people singing and/or dancing to whatever is playing on their iPod while struttin' to class. It kills me every time. Sometimes I try to discern the words they are mouthing or actually singing so I can rock out in my head along with them (as long as it isn't Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, or Katy Perry). And I must give them props for being able to bust a move in the middle of the street because I typically cannot reveal my, let's call them peculiar, dance moves without a few Sam Adams first.
I also love when I see little munchkins who are skipping down the streets with their parents for the day suddenly bolt away from them. Those damn seven-year-olds cannot be restrained and I can't get enough of watching their poor parents scramble after them even though there is no way a 40-something with a hernia and/or arthritis in their knees is going to catch up to that spry little nugget. What makes the situation even better is if the little tot is wearing a T-shirt and shorts in 30 degree weather. It takes me back to the days when I had so much energy myself that I swear cold never scathed my body. Damn I wish I was seven again.
People watching is pretty darn entertaining. You never know what you're going to observe. It could be a little whipper-snapper fleeing their parents, or a 22-year-old finance major perusing their pelvic region. The pleasure lies in the anticipation, even though the observations can sometimes be mildly traumatizing.
What crazy antics have you observed while people watching? E-mail your stories to alt2@wisc.edu.
