fingernail clippings

On the bus today, my crossword puzzle was interrupted by the recognizable snapping of fingernail clippers. The man a couple rows ahead of me was clipping his nails. I pretended to be engrossed in my puzzle, using the “I’m thinking really hard and staring into space” look to check out my neighbors’ reactions. No one seemed the slightest bit bothered. The man must have clipped each nail about three times, and he did all 10. I started to wonder if he was working on his toes. My inner dialogues were speeding along furiously. Should I say something? What would I say? Is it my business? What can I compare it to? Is it a personal affront? Is it gross? Is it cultural difference? Why do I feel sick to my stomach? Why does it sound so loud? Why isn’t anyone else noticing? I called my partner to leave a voicemail saying that I wish he could answer the phone because there was a guy cutting his fingernails and I wasn’t sure what to do—I wanted to bounce ideas off him. I decided, for a moment, I’d done my passive-aggressive duty. But it still bugged me. If I was going to do CPE with a “new wade” who says what he thinks, why not start now? But I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to formulate it. I practiced conversations with me head. I decided how to handle if he came at me with the clippers, but I couldn’t figure out how to respond if he asked me why it bothered me. Because it’s gross! Then I saw him sweep the clippings onto the bus floor. There was a time when I would tolerate nose picking as long as the contents are properly disposed of, and the hands were considered septic until otherwise washed. But no more! Still, I hunkered down into my crossword puzzle and said nothing. Until I got off the bus behind him, and I noticed there were still clippings on the seat! I puzzled some more as I followed him into the parking lot. Finally I said it: “Excuse me, maybe it’s none of my business…I was trying to decide whether or not to say anything, but I noticed you left fingernail clippings on the seat. Could you wait until you get home to clip your nails?” He looked at me and said, “Yeah, okay.” And continued to walk. I think I expected shame, guilt, shock at having been noticed, but then I remembered how loud the whole thing was. Still, I feel good that I spoke up, even if I suspect it did nothing. Now I have this undeniable urge to trim my fingernails…in the privacy of my own room!