Crap crap crap.

I was so hoping this would prove to be true.

My brother told me about it this morning during the course of a discussion about how I was sick on and off for the first two months after I began riding the El regularly. You know, before I realized that washing my hands after touching the sloughed-off filth of thousands of other peeps might be a good idea.

"One previously unheard of fungus." Ha ha.

I know someone who got scabies from a San Francisco BART train, so I didn't find this story completely unlikely. Plus little sis is planning to chop her hair off before going to London this summer because she knows two people who got European lice (apparently bigger and nastier than the American kind) and ringworm from European transit.

Mind you, I lived on trains for four months during my semester abroad, and the nastiest thing to touch me was an Italian guy who smashed himself into our compartment one early a.m., draped a handkerchief over his face, and tried to snuggle. Not that that wasn't bad, but it left no lasting scars (except for that whole "don't touch me!" compulsion).

I should probably let little sis know that brother knew not of what he spoke. Perhaps after she returns from her trip. :)

In other news, the wedding went off without any major hitches. My throat is sore from either laughing too hard or from standing too close to the tubercular maid of honor. Details to come later, once I have the time to do them justice.