The Old Lady Is A Bitch

I knew that the old lady could see from the outside that people on the rush were already standing on the aisle of the bus. But, she still insisted to get in. While the bus was stuck in the non-moving traffic, the old lady knocked heavily on the door. Or, was she thumping her palm on the door? Looked like she was pleading that she be let in.

Second thought: it didn't look like she was pleading. 

She was yelling. We couldn't hear her but it looked like she was commanding the bus driver to open the door and let her in. The poor driver was hesitant at first. The bus couldn't accommodate another person, unless the driver would give up his seat. But, maybe considering that she was old, he yielded; he opened the door and let her in. She squeezed herself through the warm bodies that were practically packed inside the bus. And then, most of us inside the bus couldn't believe what we witnessed next. This old lady yelled (again), now addressing her ire to the bus conductor: "There should be seats reserved for senior citizens!" The bus conductor, in utter confusion, quizzically replied: "They're occupied!" He then went on with his business of ticketing and collecting fares. We didn't expect the bitchy old lady's arrogant reply: "By these people? They don't look like crippled or old."

I was one of "these people" who didn't look old or crippled. Thank you! The haughty bitch had a good sense of ill humor. I felt blood rush to my face. I had to attenuate the impending embarrassment and being offended (on my face) with a dry smile that, I thought, no one noticed.

It was not play time for the bitch. Her last utterance was pure sarcasm, a display of imposed superiority. If I had a gun, I would have shot her point blank. If I were Carrie, I would have made her heart stop beating. Yes, I mean Stephen King's Carrie. Let's get local: If I were Lastikman, I would have strangled her or wring her neck, and toss her out of the bus. I would have emptied a bottle of 36 M sulfuric acid into her throat. I was really having evil thoughts with all these brooding.

I really got irritated. I could sense that I was not alone. I could see from other people's silent reactions that they couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing I overheard someone silently uttered: "Some old people don't deserve respect. When she came in she knew there was no room for her."  Susurrus filled the claustrophobic air-space inside. There were faint giggling.

A student who got intimidated gave up his seat for her. I protested in silence. To suppress (my) belligerence, I plugged the handset of my music player to my ears and pretended to fall into (instant) sleep. In isolation, I could only hear Tracy Thorn and Ben Watt singing "Boxing and Pop Music."

At half-past eight in the morning. September 7, 2013

To be continued....