Monster

Today on the train I sat beside a guy in the earliest of the early twenties.  He had a Monster energy drink in one hand and was wearing a hat emblazoned with the same logo.  When I looked again I realized that his shirt and hoodie also had the distinctive slime-green M printed on them.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he had the logo tattooed on his arm.

Yep, not only was he entirely decked out in energy drink merchandise, but he actually had the brand's logo tattooed on him as well.  This was such a foreign idea to me, to become a living and breathing advertisement for a brand that I didn't personally invent.  What would drive someone to do that?

I know many people become personally invested in consumer goods, allowing it to become part of their identity.  There are people who will live and die for Nike shoes or Levi's jeans or a Luis Vuitton handbag.  I have a friend whose nickname is a clothing brand popularized in the 90's... for the longest time I didn't even know his real name.  Nicknames can be changed, though, and your obsession with this brand or that can be quietly forgotten when you find a different brand that you like better.  A tattoo is a pretty serious commitment.

Then again, I'm quick to avoid and deny corporate advertising whenever possible.  When William Gibson's Pattern Recognition was released, I had a few people tell me that they couldn't see Cayce (who goes so far as to have the logos sanded off of the buttons of her jeans) as described in the story because they were so busy imagining her as me.  I don't think I'm that obsessive - and I've even calmed down over the years as I have gotten other things in my life to worry about - but perhaps it clouds my perception in matters like these.

Curiosity was killing me (and Jess, who was yelling at me via text message "Talk to him!!!  Ask him if he likes Red Bull!") so I said, "Hey, the ink is really well done. [It was well done, this is not a lie.]  Where'd you get it?"  I intended to ask if Monster employed or sponsored him somehow, but apparently I greatly underestimated my own intimidation factor.

He muttered, "NYC."  Then he stood up abruptly and made for the door, nearly tripping on my feet as he crossed over me.  It was my stop as well, so I followed him and stood behind him while the train ground to a halt.  As he exited I noticed that he had a lanyard with the Monster brand and that he had pulled the labels off of his Oakley sunglasses.

God, people are weird and I love them.  Is it any wonder that I just want to study them forever?