How I met your Mother:

Metrovert

Some folks reckon me for an introvert, at least until drunk that is, then I become an introvert who looks at other people while talking to myself loudly. Others figure me for that unique brand of extrovert known as the Wise Ass, which is really just shorthand to them for an Asshole with passive aggressiveness issues. Fair enough. But honestly though, I see myself more as a Metrovert, a person who thrives when submerged into the ebb and tide of the city crowd. You there, the Northbound Crazy talking about how our cell-phones are allowing intangible aliens to incubate in our brains - to you sir I listen keenly knowing full well a man shaken by Enochian angels. You, the two giggling teenagers dressed in fast-food uniforms with Cleopatra make-up who wanted to see, then touch my tattoos right there on the bus - I offer assurance that doing so won't get you in trouble with God though your parents are another story. You, the kid in the red hoodie on a skateboard held together with band stickers who shot me the devil horn salute when he saw my Baphomet shirt before rolling down the road - I wish you safe travels in your infernal adventures ahead. You, the old man behind me on line who told me about his grandson in the Marines and the miracle of Jesus that bought him back alive to you from Afghanistan - thank you. You, the little girl in the Iron Man mask who on a street where the sex workers scream death threats at each other, wave triumphantly at me before soaring back off into invisible adventures - I salute you.

Around you all I feel welcome to the party, an honorary member of the tribe, a man worthy of your consultations and confessions. In the city I am pulled from headphone soundtrack and flow of introspection's narrative by your random charms, by the ambush of your vulnerabilities, by the raw weird sharp in your eyes.

I am a Metrovert and in the city I am never alone amongst her strangers.

Comic Book Wednesday: