public transportation trauma

Since I sold my Explorer in August, I have become a champion of public transportation, and I have found that it's really not all that bad. At first, I would sit on the bus and fume, reminding myself that I have been through eight years of post-secondary education and I'm still riding the bus. But after a while, I got used to it.

Then this morning happened.

The bus was running late, so when it pulled up, I could see that it was packed full. I squeezed onto it and, as I do most mornings, stood in the aisle, holding on to the pole so that I wouldn't topple on top of the other fifty-seven people standing in the aisle every time the bus went over a bump or took a turn. I was standing there not three minutes when I heard a rather impatient man making his way up the aisle, pushing people out of his way, going "excuse me excuse me." By the time he approached me, I had already resolved that I was not going to let him by. In fact, I was rather annoyed at him. So he reached me and told me "excuse me excuse me excuse me," and I held on to the pole and told him "sir, you're gonna have to wait a minute until the bus stops." He looked at me with disbelief and said "I'm tryin'a get to the back of the bus," and I replied "well, you're gonna have to wait."

And then it happened. He took his dirty hand and grabbed my freshly lotioned hand on the pole, and then with his dirty fucking REPULSIVE long-ass finger nails, dug under my fingers to loosen them from the pole and brushed right past me.

I was and still am DISGUSTED. I got to work and washed my hands like seven times.

My response was "excuse me, please don't touch me." The words came out of my mouth and even as I heard them, I was so pissed off at myself. Why did I have to be so proper and polite? "Excuse me?" "Please?" Why couldn't I be gangsta and bust out with some shit like "Oh, I KNOW you didn't just put your dirty mothafuckin' hands on me, mothafucka" and kicked him in the groin? No, instead I busted out with "excuse me" and "please." What the fuck?????

I spent the rest of the ride to work trying to read my book but fantasizing about Henry Hill being my boyfriend and being on the bus with me and whipping out his pistol and telling that motherfucker "Touch her again and I swear to God I'll fucking kill you" like he did when that neighbor boy tried to touch Karen. Okay, not really, because I'm not a proponent of violence, but at least a big beefy gangster boy with me to be like "Touch her again and I swear to God…" something. Something gangsta. Not "Excuse me, please don't touch her again."