Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Isn't It Ironic

Note: Written on Wednesday, Nov. 21 but not posted until today because I am incredibly lazy.

How is it that I have never been more aggravated, disappointed, annoyed and occasionally outright disgusted with human beings as I have been since I started growing a new one?

This morning a big, cigarette smelling woman in a puffy, wet down-filled jacket sat on me. ON me. Not beside me, not near me but actually ON me, on the subway.

I used to be a patient person, I swear. Perhaps even too much of one. A year ago had someone sat on me, I'd have said, "Excuse me, why don't I give you some room," and gotten up to stand somewhere else. Confrontation would not have been an option for me, although I may have silently stewed about what a douche bag the woman was.

But today? Oh no. I couldn't let it go. I couldn't let this wet, smelly woman just plop down on me and sit there all the way to Yonge St. And I couldn't get up because she was heavy. I was trapped and I was panicking. The woman across from me on the train saw my fear, but like most Torontonians pretended not to and simply ignored the fact that I was slowly being smothered by this giant stinky wet woman.

After a few seconds I realized she actually intended on staying as she was, half on top of me and slowly suffocating me to death. So I had to act.

"Hello? You can't sit on me," I said.

"This is a seat," was her response.

"Mhm, okay sure, but I'm seven months pregnant and you're crushing me. Do you think you could get up so I can at least get out from under you?"

She gave me a long foul smelling exasperated sigh, waited just a beat longer than she should have, and heaved herself up just long enough for me to hoist my swollen body up from the seat before she went crashing back down again.

I realized that I had better walk away immediately from this women or risk throwing myself at her in a fit of unbridled hormonal rage, so I grabbed my bag, which had between between my feet and waddled away to the far end of the car.

I wish that was the end, but OH NO. Not three stops later and we were at St. George St. Many people disembark here so I was able to grab another seat and sat down to rest for the next couple of stops. Who should I see some sauntering over and drop down into the seat right across from me? Correct. Wet 'n Stinky herself.

She proceeded to glare at me for the rest of the ride. As I had somehow caused her personal anguish and pain and not the reverse. It took all the restraint I had in my soul not to leap over and throttle her. I mean I really, really wanted to clock her until she bled from her eyes.

Instead I just sat as calmly as possible until I was able to get off safely at my stop.

And then I cried. I hate that stupid wet lady, but karma will have its way with her eventually.

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