Nasties on the Subway

This morning I got into a tiff with a 350 lb teen on the train. I sat next to her on one of those tiny benches near the door. She tsked and then snarled, while moving her gigantic arm.

So, I turned and asked, "what, I can't sit here?"

After waiting for the train for 20 minutes, watching two trains pass before I could even squeeze onto the third, I was in a nasty mood.*

Equally unpleasant, she spat out, "you sat on my purse."

I didn't see the purse under her arm, and am damn sure I didn't sit on it. It was, though, the tiniest purse I have ever seen. A little Guess one, like Raquel, my old roommate used to carry. You can fit your keys and credit cards in there, not much else.

After she left, two other chicks got into a verbal brawl. The one was a white lady who had a large, flat cardboard box which was apparently "jabbing" a rather loud, pretty Hispanic lady in the leg. "It is jabbing in my leg!"
"No it's not, I can see it."
"Who are you to tell me that it isn't."
"This is the Subway, you have to deal with it."
"I don't have to deal with it!"
Blah, blah, blah. I love coffee-less mornings in the City. So filled with friendly compassion and sisterly love. I love you guys!

*Please see next blog on the L train.