Welcome to As The Platform Fills, a series reporting on the latest sightings, observances, and events taking place right here — outside our office — in downtown Minneapolis overlooking the Nicollet Mall Light Rail Platform. The lives we observe are complex. The dramas we record are real. Things get weird. Stay tuned for more real platform action.

This casual male in a wooden rocking chair was observed by a coworker at Azul 7. I was out of the office one morning, and upon my return I heard murmurings of an interesting platform sighting. I was thrilled to hear someone took a snapshot of the occurance — a young guy, apparently waiting for a train — in a rocking chair. “Hmm… weird!”, I thought, as questions and theories started gathering in my mind, as I’m sure they are yours. Where do I begin?

First off, the obvious: Why would one bring a rocking chair to the train platform?
Just as this question is quite obvious, it could also have rather obvious and boring explanation. Like: He bought it and had to bring it home. Period. But other details lead me to think the situation was a little more interesting than that.

So my next question is: Why would a young gentleman such as this want a wooden rocking chair?
My observation of his rather “street” attire makes me believe this guy wouldn’t usually be caught dead in this chair. He and the chair just don’t fit. They’re from different planets, different eras. Yet, it appears he’s quite at ease, and has fully and happily embraced his new seat while awaiting the train.

My coworker AJ and I were discussing this over free sandwiches this afternoon. Her theory: He found the chair in an alley and is kindly bringing it home to his mother or grandma. And since he’s waiting for the train anyway, why not have a seat in the chair he’s found? A nice, warm and fuzzy theory, albeit a bit dull.

My theory? He’s not doing anyone a favor. He doesn’t care about his mom or granny. He’s waiting for the train home because he’s been fired. Fired for being lazy. And taking too long on breaks. He hated the job anyway, to him it was just a paycheck. On the way out of his place of former employment, he grabbed the only thing that meant anything to him: the wooden rocker he used to sit and smoke in on breaks. It made him feel good to take that rocker. He felt alive. As he sat in the chair that fateful morning, he smiled and rocked. He got the last laugh.