I’d like to send positive beams of loving energy into the world, or something, however the quite large woman next to me is bouncing her legs up and down and rubbing them together like a cricket and it’s driving me nuts. I feel bad for her—apparently perhaps her appendages are falling asleep, however it’s eat or be eaten on an airplane and bitch has a middle seat and she isn’t observing the middle seat code which involves basically understanding that in the caste system of the airplane, you are the lowest of the low, and if you even get an armrest you should feel lucky. But this large cricket next to me is helping herself to my personal space AND IT’S NOT OKAY WITH ME. Earlier I tried to stake my claim by just leaning against her and trying to out creep her, thinking that all humans try to avoid close physical contact with a stranger and so if I could stand my ground she’d retreat, but I got tired of it. To her left is a woman with a toddler who’s alternately yelling and then coughing in a way that sounds really wet and full of germ-packed baby sputum. I just bet this little wet he beast is contagious. I better not get a diaper rash.
But back to the leg-pumper. Her name is MIM, or her initials are. I know this because Delta has online multiplayer trivia, which is kind of cool, and so I decided to play and then the cricket decided to play and so we were both playing and glancing at each other’s screens. Even though this obviously would have bee an opportunity to actually talk to each other, I steadfastly held my ground. “Suck it, Mim!” I’d yell in my head when the scores would come up (after every question) and I was ahead. But then they’d ask questions that you’d have to be over 50 to know, and the silver fox to my left would edge me out. Bitch.
Perhaps part of the reason I’m so agitated by my personal OH MY GOD I FEEL LIKE I’M GETTING FELT UP BY A GRANDMA AND I CANT STAND IT! THE FEROCIOUS LEG PUMPING! Space being violated is because of the street encounter I’ve been referring to. So anyway just the other day I was reading Noelle Hancock’s blog about the various things people say to you on the street in NYC—one of them being a scam where guys stop you to ask you where you get your hair cut and then, flattered, you sputter something and then they try to convince you to come to their salon for a discount haircut and you feel like a big tool for explaining that actually you just moved to NYC and get it cut in California, if you were me the first and only time I fell for this.
So I’m outside Starbucks and there are two guys doing this and I screw my face into the hardest firm jawed “don’t even talk to me” kind of face I can muster, which is actually just my face at this point, and they don’t talk to me and I feel triumphant because with lustrous locks like these, you can imagine that I would be an obvious target. I mean, they are human after all.
So then I’m coming out of starbucks holding an iced coffee in one hand and a sample of the new pike’s place coffee in the other. I had an ex (not the button sewer but a different one. I get around) who would refer to my habit of ordering espresso and then putting milk and equal into it until it resembled just a smurf sized coffee, or smurfspresso. That sentence didn’t work. But anyway, this was like a smurfspresso, except it wasn’t espresso based, it was coffee based. Anyway, again it looks like I’m going to eke past the hair guys who are taking over about half the sidewalk, facing each other and attacking the people who pass in between then so I’m not going in between them but trying to go behind the one guy and just as I’m about to do it…
I interrupt this story to say that I just heard the best dialogue from two flight attendants pushing the beverage cart.
First guy: well, it is what it is
Second guy: it is what it is
First guy: she changed her mind [about a drink order] women’s prerogative!
First guy: can I get you anything ? winning lottery ticket?
Second guy: five hours of sleep would be nice
Okay anyway, back to the street story. So I’m about to go by the hair guys unnoticed when the one who’s farther away sees me and starts yelling “JOE! JOE! JOE! JOE!” as if Joe is fucking on fire so Joe shoots his hand out behind him as if to palpate my uterus and also to stop me from going by, which is only an acceptable gesture when you’re trying to prevent someone from flying through the windshield and even then it’s still kind of annoying. In the process, Joe bangs his hand into my coffee though and it goes flying all over my coat and purse. I just looked at him like “that did not just fucking happen!” and he said something like “oops, my bad” which belongs in the hall of fame of insincere apologies, right up there with “Shame on me” and even “I apologize” (I’m sorry is more sincere. It just is). I didn’t say anything but what was going through my head was “And no, I don’t want to a fucking haircut!” So I stared at him uncomfortably (for him, I think, because I was obviously livid and taken aback) for too long and then I went on my merry way, wondering if I should go marching back to chew him out. What a fucking idiot though, right? I still get mad thinking about it! It’s not okay to physically accost people and then try to sell them something. Weird how this is still pissing me off so much!
But MIM stopped pumping her legs, so that’s good.
Okay, I just reread that whole post. Early-to-mid-morning me is so angry! Late afternoon me is much more mellow. Almost asleep, really.
