Naked Breakfast?

The commute in this morning was bizarre. So much so, I'm really questioning if I am in fact awake, or David Lynch is channeling William S. Burroughs and co-scripting a new reality movie that I secretly auditioned for and was cast.

Scene 1: A CTA Train Station

[Our heroine, frozen and sleepy, stumbles up the steps of her local train station and gravitates to the glowing heat lamps of the train platform kiosk. After settling herself into one of the parabolas of toastiness, she looks up at her surroundings. Instead of other icicle laden commuters, she is surrounded by 6 Chicago Police Officers while 2 muzzled German Shepards rest at her feet. She smiles at one of the officers and picks up a strain of their conversation.]

"It's the f*ckin' owners, they couldn't care less about the players or the fans. Money-grubbin' SOB's" grumbles Officer A.

('Hockey? they're talking about Hockey?' our heroine thinks to herself, bewildered that in this Bears football obsessed town that anyone heard the news about the recent rejected NHL offer, much less cared.)

[Conversation strikes up between our heroine and the officers as to the loss of a whole hockey season and Chelios's might/might not signing status with the Chicago Wolves...the Chicago AHL Hockey team. A train then pulls up and all parties wave and chuckle about seeing each other at a Wolves game soon.]

[end scene]

Weird no?