Imaginary Basketball

Style Therapy isn't just about how to dress and wardrobe efficiency. It's also about decorum: civility, protocol, and deportment. Good old fashioned etiquette. And etiquette isn't solely based on how to eat an artichoke. It's doing everything in your power not to behave like, for lack of a better term, a damn fool. Damn fool conjures up a stronger image than merely fool.

Yesterday, while waiting for the train, I discovered a damn fool on the train platform. He was listening to a song on his iPod that he was singing along to. But that's not what made him a damn fool. If I have an exceptional tune on one of my playlists, I may hum along as well.

What made this young man a damn fool was the fact that he was playing imaginary basketball. Yes, imaginary basketball. Instead of one-on-one, it was one-on-no one. He dribbled and made three point shots. I knew they were three point shots because he threw his pretend ball while standing on the edge of the platform and tried to make it across to the other platform. He didn't stop there. His repertoire also included crossovers, pick and rolls, and ali oops. Standing on the yellow caution portion of the platform is dangerous when the train is bolting down the tracks. But practicing your jump shot is another matter altogether.

His imaginary solo game wasn't offensive. It was his acute case of attentionwhoritis, not to be confused with labelwhoritis. Every time he slam dunked his imaginary basketball, he'd turn around to see who was watching. I must admit he caught me looking at him a couple of times. I wasn't in awe. I wanted my face to be read as, "Aww, you poor, damn fool." I'm not sure it worked. Right now he's probably gearing up for the Imaginary Basketball Northeast Semi-finals.