Nasty Friday

I should have known that the commute was going to be bad this morning when I made it to the platform and found more than the normal crowd waiting. When the train finally pulled up, there were only a few seats to be found and the old Orthodox Jew men pushed all the ladies out of the way to get those. (That's not an anti-remark, it's the truth, ask David Ann.) So I ended up standing until Jay Street, a major transfer station.

Then when I exited the train a woman was walking beside me, very closely. Too closely. As we crossed the ICF Plaza, she managed to walk me into a large planter. So I hustled around her in the hopes of not being walked into the upcoming trashcan. Then she walked up beside me again, this time my newspaper knocking into her shopping bag and walking right into and in front of my path. I literally found myself asking her, "What is your beef? You've walked all over me this morning?" and hustled off again, this time crossing the street in an effort to avoid more confrontations.

This is my dance space, that is your dance space. Try not to invade my dance space, especially on a hot and humid August Friday morning.