There I was, walking up to the Orange line train that would take me to North Station, when I saw a middle aged man in a trench coat.

His legs were bare, but he wore dress shoes and black socks. His chest was also bare, something that was visible because the trench coat was not buttoned at the top. In his hand was a pair of dress slacks, shirt and tie. They were on a hanger in plastic as if he'd just picked them up from the dry cleaner.

I was tempted to ask him if he'd left the house in a hurry that morning, but I suspect he just stumbled upon an interesting way to keep his suit form getting wrinkled before he got to work.