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A Sob Story

for

October 20, 2004

I could feel it attempting to penetrate the right side of my head as I waited patiently. Much like a barrage of very small splinters thrown by agitated chipmunks, it was only annoying once I finally noticed it, the spite flowing towards me at this early stage of the morning. Already, I had been cut off and circumvented unnecessarily, and when I found myself in this line, again facing the possibility that someone was trying to get in front of me, I did what any New Yorker would do. I silently stood my ground, twisted my shoulder and awaited the confrontation. > In New York, for all of our F-You's and muggings and so on, when it comes to normal interaction, we usually will harrumph and possibly "Excuse me", but rarely does it go beyond that. Okay, maybe that's just the Upper East Side. [For you Midwesterners or Brits, that's the equivalent of southern North Snootyville.] But my experience has been: shoulder turns, other person quietly burns. And not because I set them on fire. For once, though, the confrontation wasn't far off. The stare grew harder, and I looked up, puzzlingly. After all, I'd done no wrong. Not according to this woman. Upon finally meeting her eye, she veritably exploded with disgust. She thought I had cut in front of her. Interesting. Interesting because I was standing directly behind the man who had cut in front of me and whom I'd followed down the stairs at a rapid clip. The man that she now claimed, in a typhoon of indignation and self-righteousness, that she was behind. Right, lady--I forgot--the laws of physics don't apply to tall, thin women wearing dumb-ass hats.#[hat] > A quick digression: as a lawyer, and--to my eyes--a good human being, I am a strong believer in lines. I believe in not creating them if you can help it, but that if there is one, unless there is some very good reason or customary way of doing things differently, you get in it, and you stay in it. So when Man-Whose-Butt-We-Wanted-to-Be-Behind had cut the entire line, I was already fuming about the state of lines, and propriety in society going to hell, and so on. Then this all occurred. The Explosion. The Tantrum. The-- Why don't I just show you? I explain, calmly, without any sense of anger, dismay, or unrectitude, that, no, I'm sorry, I was right behind this gentleman coming down the stairs. "Incredulity" does not give the barest hint of meaning to the look on this woman's face. Utter incomprehension. Total non-understanding. The lady just didn't get it. After some trills of further annoyance on her part, I stand my ground. "No, I'm here." And her response, guaranteed to passive-agressively change your mind: "Well if it's that important to you...." Well, no, madam, it's not that important to me to be first in line--which you were obviously intimating--but I do have a sense of honor, one core principle of which includes not hitting a woman, no matter the reason. Unfortunately, another core principle is that lines are there for a reason. Also, I was a bit late for work. Of course, there is that one last core principle. Actually, two. Number one: sometimes I'm just too much Nice Shoe. Number two: I'm sarcastic.#[sarcasm] So loudly, and with much eye contact with the gentleman behind me, I announce: "No, no, it's not that important to me, you go ahead. In fact [my voice growing louder with and emphasizing "fact"], I'll go behind this gentleman behind you, because of course, I'm wrong!" I might have used stronger language. I'm sure that doesn't bother you; I just don't remember. She bought her MetroCard. She got on the train. The guy in front of me got his. He got on the next train. And me, two trains later. I spent most of the morning wondering why the thought in my head couldn't get itself to my tongue in time: "No, actually, it's not that important to me to be first, but you know what? It must plainly be important to you to lie so baldfacedly about something so transparently unimportant. But you know what? Even though it doesn't matter to me, I'm not getting out of the way, because I believe in honesty and fair play. So screw you; wait your turn." She: "Ay, I am wounded to the quick!" [Dies.]
I: "Thus with all villains. Come fellow commuters! To Office!"
Exeunt [hat]: A word of explanation: not a hat that makes her stupid; just a stupid hat. I'm looking for a picture to show you, but even the Internet doesn't want that, apparently. It's one of those crocheted things that look like they could hold $1000 in pennies and also (!) has a bill on the front to block the light out when your 100,000 pennies have pulled your head back so you're forced to look into the sun. You know what I mean, even if the metaphor's a bit strained. [sarcasm]: My handwriting analysis of a couple of days ago (its use of the word "hisself" notwithstanding) indicated that I might use sarcasm to point out my own weaknesses. True, but that's because everyone is subject to the same standard.

This was New York , and it appeared on October 20, 2004 6:37 PM.

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Comments

Posted by: Friend of Blue Shoe at October 21, 2004 6:35 PM

Posted by: New Blue Shoe at October 21, 2004 8:40 PM

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