I'm having a very difficult time enduring the conditions of my commute. Yesterday, I was delightfully cornered by three buxom, big mouthed women, who were incredibly smug about their upcoming days off work. One of them, the ugliest, announced that she had plans for the next seven weekends, and proceeded to list them.
"Booked up, completely booked, hardly time to breathe. This weekend I'm phoning my mum, next weekend I'm sewing up a hole in my sock. Then I'm catching up on my recorded Sky back list, then it's a holiday with the girls, I say the girls, not everyone can make it, and it's in the UK."
I thought, please, please divulge the location of this 'holiday', so I can make sure I'm not there, in body or spirit. Then another one talked about a fabulous Spanish resort that she was going to with her family, but mentioned no dates. Great, now I have to avoid Spain for the foreseeable future, all of Spain. Thanks. The third continually yawned in my face, covering only her nose. It left me to imagine that her nostrils flared unnaturally, and had been the topic of previous nasty remarks.
Will this ever end, I asked my poor, suffocating, sprayed in the remnants of their lunch self. Will it? No, because the logical jump for the conversation to make is Osama Bin Laden. They were in mutual agreement, that his death wasn't going to stop anyone 'doing' terrorism. I really hate it when people do terrorism. And they all seemed genuinely very excited about possible revenge. I guess that the first woman was hoping for an event large enough that it would busy her for that eighth, looming weekend. I guess the second woman was hoping for an event long enough, so that she could bob off to Spain for a few weeks. And I guess the third woman would just bloody love another excuse to have her mouth open.
Upon nearing my departure from the love train, I said 'excuse me' to a so far quiet lady to my left. She too, was getting off, and said, 'I too, am getting off.' I said, 'IF we can get off', and gestured at my new friends. And she, without the slightest hint of sarcasm said, 'We will make them get off.' And I knew, that like me, her day had also been ruined by their complete disregard for personal space, and political opinions.
Could the class one travels by, not be concluded by conduct, rather than cash? It's not that I don't enjoy an elbow tentatively rubbing against my breast, and being privy to a loud re-telling of Susie's break-up, and a briefcase nudging my crotch. I do. It's just a suggestion.
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