Monkiss Fisticuffs is my name…at least today, it almost was.
Sometimes dear reader, when you live in the murder capital, you have to assert yourself and then be prepared the person you’re asserting yourself with, might have a weapon…is it worth it sometimes?
Catch me in the right mood, and I’ll say yes…for example, today.
My wife and I jump on the neighbourhood bus and connect with the rapid transit corridor where the bus is late and packed and people are pretty rude about sitting in the priority seating. It’s pretty important to me since I’m in daily pain from my hips down.
What I don’t understand, as a gentleman, is that I offer people seats and go out of my way to accommodate people. My patience with teenagers, adults and the able-bodied is wearing thinner and thinner…It’s no wonder I’m close to a snap.
Today I might’ve complained about people’s rudeness a little on the loud side and got contemptable glares from the peanut gallery. B glared at me a little hoping I would shut up I think.
Then she smiled.
So this woman, able-bodied and sitting in the priority seating gets up as the bus stops and looks me in the eye, she says to me and to B, “I’m coming back to sit there,” she says. She pushes by other standing passengers to talk to the bus driver.
“I don’t care,” I call after her, I’m wearing a walking boot up to my knee, I limped and hauled myself up onto the bus and I’m taking her seat.
B walks back to the regular seating where a seat has become available and I’m sure she’s wishing she had some popcorn to watch what happens next.
As I sat down, every eye around me widened as if I broke some sort of law. The woman to my right turned away and moved as far to the right as she could. The packed audience waited with anticipation.
I put my game face on.
Cue large angry woman.
She stands over me, even though I clearly made room for her next to me on the bench seats, her hands on her hips.
“Well isn’t that lovely?” she says, taking a deep angry sigh and squeezing in next to me. Angry words on the tip of her tongue.
In my head, I’m saying: bring it sweetheart, you’re fucking with the wrong bitch
Her: “I get up for a minute and someone steals my seat,” she mutters.
I’m furious…out of the million expletives I wanted to use, I said in a raised and angry voice…
“Do you have a broken foot?”
She looks back at me with a glare and catches a look at the contraption on my foot.
Her: “No…oh…I didn’t SEE that,” she says in a hostile tone.
Me: “Well now you do, so you know what you can do.”
My wife shoots me a look and a smile from the back seating.
The woman stands up instead and spends the rest of our ride together looking at me.
I just waited patiently…I don’t have much trouble coming to blows with strangers if need be.
Mei culpa for my lack of cool headedness alright?
What would you do?
This calls for some Jay-Z: