I have always strongly suspected such, but it was confirmed to me on the train ride in to work this morning. I am a bitch ass.
I get on the train this morning and surprise of all surprises, there is a seat available right behind the conductor’s compartment. None of the standing people seem eager to take it so I swoop in and sit down. A connecting train comes in and a few more people get on including an older woman who is legally blind. No one near the doors offers her their seat so I get up and walk over to her and offer her my seat and guide her over. I am now standing up in that awkward part near the front of the train car where there is a lot of space but not much room to hang on. There is still space in front of the two seats that face the middle of the car so I grab onto the pole and start reading my book.
Seated in the space right next to the pole is a lanky teenage looking kid with legs spilling out farther into the aisle than is necessary. It’s not a big deal, though, he has room and I have room. He leans over and mumbles something to me in a sleepy, half awake voice but I can’t understand what he’s saying.
“Sorry, what?”, I ask him.
“Could you move somewhere else? There’s room in front of the door.”
I look to the door that people will be entering and leaving from and there is, indeed, some room. But it’s the door that people use to get on and off, there’s supposed to be room.
He continues mumbling, “I don’t like people standing in front of me.”
I’m sure at this point I had some strange expression on my face; half bemusement, half incredulity. I’m not sure if the guy is high as a kite or just tired and I don’t think it would be very productive to explain to him the finer points of train etiquette and my philosophy of proper standing arrangements given how full the train is currently and is expected to be. So instead, I answer, “That’s tough. Sorry.”, and continue to read my book.
The young man proceeds to mumble stuff under his breath with the only intelligible words being “bitch ass” making the woman sitting next to him more uncomfortable than he’s making me. He also stretches out his legs making sure that they come in contact with mine. Being a train riding veteran, bodily contact doesn’t bother me. I just smile and continue to read, a “bitch ass” softly rising to my ears every once in a while.
The very next stop, one of the sitters gets up and leaves the train. The woman that is standing in my favorite standing spot tells me that I can have the seat so I sit down. The young man immediately sprawls his legs into the aisle in front of him making it impossible for anyone to use that space to stand. He looks my way every once in a while with a “bitch ass” on his tongue before pulling his cap over his eyes in an attempt to sleep.
As I exit the train at my stop, I pass the young man and he makes it a point to stare directly at me as I leave the train. “Bitch ass” greets me as the train doors open. I meet his eyes and give him my best grimace smile as I walk out the door.