Tuesday, February 12, 2008

I am an inconsiderate bitch, apparently. I'm sorry. Really.

It's early. Hella early. I am not a morning person. This morning, I walked down the stairs onto the subway platform and it was frickin' packed. Train came, and I got on, and shockingly, I found a seat. This is one of those subway cars where there are three seats, then two seats perpendicular to the three seats. I sat on the end seat of the three-seater, directly next to the two-seater. There was a chick with short, massively curly hair sitting on the outer of the two-seater, with herlegs crossed. Her foot was sticking out into the aisle. She was reading a calander of days in Hebrew.

All right, now that I've got the setting all decribed, time for the drama:

I cross my ankles.

"Hey!" says big-hair.

I look up, confused. "Yes?" I ask.

"Apologize! You just kicked me."

"I kicked you?"

"Yes! Say you're sorry."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, but you're being rude."

"Have you been permanently damaged?"

"No, but you need to say you're sorry. You kicked my foot! Hard! On purpose!"

"No, I didn't. I may have nudged your foot. However, I apologize for obviously traumatizing you so dramatically."

"No you don't. I can't believe you're lying right to my face."

"I'm not lyinng. I really am sorry my nudge caused you such angst."

"Don't talk to me."

"You spoke to me first."

Thinking the drama over, I pull out my book and start to read.

There was a man standing next to her. She looked up at him.

"Can you believe some people? They're mean to everyone else because they hate themselves."

"I know," replies the man. "Some people are bitches."

"I know. I'm reading this, "she holds up her hebrew book, "because it has good philosophy in it. Don't worry, I'm not jewish, this doesn't mean I'm jewish, it's written by some crazy people, but I like to forgive people right away, and apologize right away. I'm from a really small town with nowhere near this many people, but you would think I'm used to it now, since I've been living here for seven years. I've turned over a new leaf in my life, I go to university and I'm a nicer person."

The train gets to 125th street, and the man goes to get off.

"Where are you going?" the woman asks in desparation.

"This is my stop. I go to school here."

"University? At 125?"

The guy gets off. An older woman takes up the guy's position at the pole next to the woman.

"Ma'am, would you like to sit down?" the crazy asks.

"No, thank you," the nice older lady replies, "I'm getting off at the next stop."

"Oh, me, too, here, have my seat, I like to offer people my seat without being asked." (yes, she did say that).

"No thank you," the lady repeats.

The crazy goes back to her hebrew book of days, sporadically looking up at me and muttering "bitch", "whore" and "slut" under her breath.

We get to 59th street, and I put my book away, and the woman says "oh great, you're getting off here, too?"

Like what does she think, we're gonna be stuck together forever because we happen to get off at the same subway stop?

"Ma'am, I can see that I've caused you considerable stress. Can I supply you with the number for a therapist who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder?" I ask her sweetly.

"Bitch!" came her intelligent reply.

Now I'm at work.

'Nuff said.