Wednesday, December 17, 2003

Standing Room Only

They were at my bus stop, first of all.  That corner is mine.  And, I was there first, already waiting quietly, minding my own business, before they showed up.  I was in a neutral spot, too, up on the grass on the edge of the greenbelt with plenty of room for people to get around the corner and the trash can and yours truly. 

Then she suddenly showed up, next to me, standing inappropriately closely for anyone but kin, like she was my great aunt or something.  But I’d never seen her before.  She just apparated there at my shoulder with her purple jacket and maroon slacks, almost touching me at the elbow, hip and knee.  I glanced over to assess the nature of this intrusion into my personal space.  She glared straight ahead, overtly ignoring me.  After a few moments sharing my zone of intimacy with her, I discretely retreated to a spot a few steps closer to the glass bus stop shelter.  She waited for me to situate myself and then she swooped in next to me again.  I looked her over more carefully this time: a handsome woman in her 70s, not without charm or beauty, but with such a look on her face - angry and sad, sort of sangry I suppose…. she gave me a thorough glaring and I stepped back.  She strode on past me.  Following her at some remove was a slightly built older gent with shoulder length hair, grey growing out thick under the black, a red Members Only jacket and pressed blue jeans.  I hadn’t noticed him before, he had been standing off to the side.  But when he walked past me to join his lady friend, he jostled me pretty good - almost as if he was elbowing me.  At the time I was willing to impute it to incipient Parkinson’s and I let it go.  I’m an easy-going guy, you know. 

The bus was very crowded; I thankfully got separated from the inappropriately close-standing woman-who-glares and her potentially umbrage-taking wingman.  Eventually, however, they had to walk past me to get off the bus at Divisidero.  On their way out, I avoided all contact with her, physical and visual, as, again, she passed within a nippleflick of me.  He followed her off the bus and this time there was no way to deny it – he gave me a tidy if ineffectual hip and shoulder check as he brushed past.  I was outraged.  I remained outraged as I sat myself down in the seat he’d occupied on the bus, that very self-same plastic bench, where I immediately wrote this essay, lambasting him. 

Honest, I coulda kicked his ass.  It wasn’t worth it.  It’s just what she would have wanted.