Shout out to my boys Rage Against the Machine. Lately I have been one testy son of a bitch on my daily commute. I don't know precisely why, maybe it is the change of season, but good lord, for a generally mild-mannered Bruce Banner, NJ Transit and NYC walking manage to make me mighty testy.
I have taken to periodically leering at people who walk obliviously with their faces glued to their iPods, phones, and PDA devices. I'm not sure how expertly these people might walk anyway, but trust me, they certainly can't manage to walk while operating any of these devices. The thing is, like other walking-related issues I've mentioned in the past, I'm sure if I managed to bump into them they would consider it entirely my fault. Amen to that.
As usual though, it only takes little things to distract me from my silly anger. This evening approaching the tracks for a departing train was a perfect example. People tend to push and shove much more than seems necessary and the other morning I actually glared at a lady that literally kept slamming into me. This was on a packed track in Penn Station when no one was moving much, so the slamming motion seemed unnecessary. She gave me a good three feet or more halo after I evil-eyed her. So tonight I feel a mass slam into me, but at an awfully low height. I turned around, prepped to glare or perhaps even mention that the perpetrator should watch themselves, only to see an Indian boy, likely aged about six, who had barreled into me in the way that children will in public or private places. This brought a smile to my face, and I happily let the family walk ahead of me. After all, we're all riding the same train.
Anyway, next up I need to talk some Gossip Girl and mention how people always think I work at stores, so now I just strike preemptively and help them out anyway. Shit, I need to make like Stella, and get my groove back...
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