Today when I left Northwest train station (I know, it's been Ogilvie for like a decade) I made the decision that I was going to hate everyone on my bus. Most days I'm indifferent, somedays I'm all "wow, isn't life grand and how cool it is that we can all coexist" and shit, but today I was going to be a hater. And I was going to start while I was waiting for the 60.
Since my iPod battery crapped out about two minutes into my train ride, I was quite glad that I remembered to bring some reading along to thwart off any potential small talkers. And I was most thankful that my bus wait was coinciding with a rare pocket of clear weather. While I was both cursing the shitty job I did last night with the self tanning lotion (my feet look really fucking odd) and enjoying this very good book I hear this off to my left:
"Hey pretty! Preetttttyyyy!"
Pretty? Clearly someone was talking to me. I turned my head.
"Are you a new momma?" the dude asked, gestering to my breasts with his eyes. I looked down at my chest to make sure I left the "open for public comment" sign I usually wear around my neck at the office. Nope. No sign.
Derelict or not, I was pissed.
"Am I a new momma? No, I am not a new momma!"
"Oh." He wasn't finished. "I know you know my face."
He was right. I've seen him on the bus before. "Yep. Seen ya on the bus," I snapped and went back to my book.
Now if I was half the man I claim to be, I would have said the following:
Yeah, I know who you fucking are. You are that total wierdo who can't seem to shut the fuck up for a single second once you get your sorry ass on the 60. And that day you sat near me last month and ate those disgusting pork rinds from Madison all the way to Roosevelt? Brutal. And then that chick totally took some when you offered them to her? I wanted to throw up. Oh, and could you please tell me why you need to carry on a conversation with the driver when you ARE STANDING ALL THE WAY IN THE BACK?"
Maybe I'll see him tomorrow.