Blood on the Floor

Thursday, 27 January 2000

Work today was uneventful. I spent most of the day carving PhotoShop compcs up into working HTML documents, with occasional spates of grumbling about the quirks of various browsers. I got fed up enough to switch over to iCab as my browser of choice, at least until I decide that I need CSS support.

Took my usual route home -- N or R to Pacific/Atlantic, switch to 2 or 3. Got on the front car (#1986, I noted on the way out at my stop) of the 3 train, saw something had spilled on the floor. No, not spilled -- dripped. Twenty or thirty penny-sized dark reds drops, along with a soaked piece of something white, bandage or a napkin. They'd been there long enough to have dried, but not so long that they'd been cleaned up. All clustered near a door, so either the dripping started on the train or the passenger came on dripping and stayed near the door till he got off. There were dark red tread marks all around that section of the car where people had walked after having stepped in the blood. The woman sitting next to me told her friend that she didn't want to go anywhere near it. Most of the passengers either ignored it, or gave it enough of a look to see that it was dry, that whatever story it was part of had long since either ended or moved on to a different venue, no need to sound red alert.