I commute from Staten Island into Manhattan every morning for work. Yes, commuting is my work. I get paid to commute and rally the spirits of fellow commuters. Someone’s got to do it.
I’m only joking. That would be ridiculous. What would my job title be, Commute Rallier? Who would pay me, the City of New York? What would I say, “Ra Ra Ra Working is the Best”? I assume chanting “Ra Ra Ra” would get people pumped up, like a filled auditorium of high school kids from the 1950s. They loved hearing, “Ra Ra Ra”.
To clairfy, I commute to work. My morning routine goes something like this:
7:40am Wake up
7:42am Brush Tooth
7:50am Put on Clothes
8:06am Eat a granola bar
8:07am Take a sip of Water
8:25am Dad says, “I’ll be in the car, no rush”
8:30am Get into the car
8:30am Father drives away from house
8:33am Arrive at bus stop
8:33am Say, “Goodbye Father”
8:34am Stand on line of commuters
8:35am Play Words with Friends on IPhone
This is where I will pause the riveting timeline. To simplify what I’m about to explain, let me photoshop you a little picture.
Here is the bus stop:
Disclaimer: In real life, this is 3-Dimensional.
Here is me waiting with fellow commuters. I am the last person in line, the one with the human head.
Why do you portray yourself bigger than everyone else? Are you a miniature giant?
Hahaha. No I’m not a miniature giant. I am 5 foot 7 and have an average body weight. I portray myself bigger because I was born without the ability to perceive and execute drawings of fake people while maintaining accurate heights.
Where is your neon yellow over-the-chest messenger bag from and how much did it cost?
It is from the retail store Target. It cost $12.99.
Why are the first and third people dressed exactly the same?
They are adult twins.
As I waited on line, I saw my bus approaching. If a bus driver doesn’t see anyone step up and mimic, usually with a hand wave, that they want to catch the bus, they sometimes speed by leaving commuters stranded. I didn’t see anyone in front of me motioning for the bus, so I stepped in front of a few people and waved my hand. I walked toward the curb. The bus pulled over.
One woman stepped onto the bus in front of me. I was about to step on behind her. I lifted my foot to step. Little did I know, I had cut off a different woman who was now behind me. It was a simple case of the, “Teacher, Mary cut me in line”. I was the cutter. The woman I cut gasped loudly, said, “Ughhh”, then hit her hip into mine. She pushed me out of the way. I stepped aside and let her on the bus before me.
I take this bus every day. I always get a seat. Sometimes I sit alone. Sometimes I sit next to someone. Once I sat on the bus driver’s lap for fun, but I always get a seat. The reaction that this woman gave me for cutting her was very unnecessary. It’s not like there was only one seat left and I cut her maliciously to get it. If anything, I was assuring the bus was even going to stop. I was very annoyed at her reaction. More confused whey she got so upset. I wanted to shake her and say, “What is your problem? I didn’t mean to cut you. Gosh, get on the bus before me if you want. There’s going to be tons of seats open. I’m going to sit on the driver’s lap anyway.” I would say this is all a sarcastic tone.
Because I didn’t want to make it a bigger deal, I chose to remain silent. I’ll let her live a life of ignorance, I thought. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she was nervous about an upcoming presentation at work. Maybe she was cut off as a child just as she was about to get a soft serve vanilla ice cream cone and was scarred for life.
I have other things to worry about in life besides this woman’s opinion on me…like if diet Snapple ice tea is worse for me than regular because it has more chemicals. To quote the ladies of 3LW, “Playas they gonna play, and haters they gonna hate.” Life goes on.