Okay we can get back into my difficulty with social bonding environments later. There’s so much I and we haven’t been updating you on that I’m starting to feel the burden of the backlog. Time to be timely. So here’s a story from this morning accompanied by the pictures of us at Halloween, and if you can't figure out who we are then follow the Big Bottom:
8:30 a.m. R train. Manhattan bound.
Train is surprisingly un-crowded considering morning rush hour patterns.
I secure a wide open safe spot by the doors that won’t open until the Atlantic Pacific stop so I can stay put until then and set up with my book. Good follower of MTA safety rules, I perch against a divide, not the doors.
Suddenly I feel an elbow in my back. I assume it is an accident and continue to read my newly delivered Amazon.com purchase.
Elbow is now repeatedly nesting in my lower back with a rhythmic poke poke poke. I turn around to see a haggard looking woman, with red brown lipstick leaking onto her pale white face from the tiny crags around her lips. Her circa ’84 Madonna bleach job has a dry straw-like quality as it sticks from under her velvet cap.
She scowls.
I say, earnestly, “Feeling aggressive this morning?” and return to reading.
I can endure physical pain it does not bother me like it should. She can poke, I don’t care, I have a knot down there anyway and I’m seeing my chiro tonight.
She starts more pointedly poking her elbow into my back.
I turn to her and say with a smile,“It’s too early in the day for this.” And turn back to read.
“Get yer fucking back outta my face. Get yer fucking back outta my face”. She repeats and repeats.
I turn toward her again, smile a true smile and say “I looove you too”
“What?” she shrieks.
I look deep, unwaivering, into her purple kohl-laced eyes and say,
“I.
Love.
You.
Too”.
Woman gets quiet. Mission accomplished. You can be tough you can be strong you can be logical or fair. But when it comes to winning an NY street turf battle –nobody argues with a weirdo.
Love
Milla
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