There is chick who takes my bus in the morning, and she annoys me.
I know this probably comes a shock to you, that someone (in particular, someone on the bus) would annoy me, but she does. She doesn’t talk loudly on her cell phone. She isn’t a meth-head (an obvious one, anyway) who twitches and shakes all her meth-y cooties on me. She doesn’t even smell! Sounds like the ideal bus patron, no?
She would be, except that she is under the mistaken belief that her purse deserves its own seat more than any of the other riders who are
falling on me when the bus comes to a halting stop standing.
This annoys me.
When I get on, there are still several seats to choose from, so I never have to
snarkily politely ask her to move her bag, but that doesn’t stop me from shooting lasers at her as the bus fills up around me.
And then, yesterday, karma bit her right in the ass and it was far more satisfying than any laser in the eye could have been. She was sitting in her usual seat, purse planted cockily next to her, when a man walked up and asked her to please move it. With a heavy sigh she picked her tiny hand bag and placed it on her lap.
When the *ahem* gentleman sat down, he removed his toque and a jumble of unwashed, scraggly hair tumbled over his shoulders.
Then he began to talk to himself.
Then he ran his fingers threw his mass of hair and started to shake it out.
Then he began picking things out of his hair, examining his findings and dropping the bits of dirt/dandruff/BED BUGS on to the ground in between them.
She looked mortified.
I, however, thought it was awesome.