Maximizing the distance between yourself and any crazy people in the public transit system seems to be an instinctual move, so when I entered the subway to catch the Red Line and heard a guy in camo pants and an old beat up jacket ranting at louder than conversational tones I set myself up at the other end of the platform.
But in this rare instance I ended up regretting my decision.
The trains were running slow that day, so the wait pushed ten minutes. But during this time I discovered that he was not your typical maniacally ranting psychiatric candidate, but instead was just enthusiastically extolling the greatness of AC/DC. The band, not the ambiguously powered electrical system.
It seems he was listening to AC/DC tunes on his headphones, switching between air guitar, singing along, and whistling. Well enough that I could easily identify the three tunes that he performed during my wait – Highway To Hell, For Those About To Rock, and Shoot To Thrill. The commentary promoting the awesomeness of the band took place mostly between selections.
Way less annoying than the sax players that only seem to know three tunes. And he wasn’t even collecting money. Rock on, dude.