I don't usually do anecdotes, but I'm toiling away this week on my HOWieZine submission and don't want the place to get too dusty. Plus, this story makes me laugh everytime I remember it now.
It happened like it was yesterday – because it did. A coworker and I got on the bus in the morning, about 7:30, to get to our carpool pick-up spot. The bus is moderately full, some available seats but not two beside each other. So we stand in the space near the back door.
There's seats in the back, a seemingly innocuous old lady mutters behind where we're standing. But we're waiting it out; it's not a long ride.
Then: There's seats in the fudging back.
And then, to the equally old woman beside her: Fudging backpacks in my fudging face.
And then: Do you see this? Fudge. Fudging backpacks. I fudging hate these fudges who fudging stand right in my face.
Two seats then become available, so we head for them. The lady swats at my friend's bag as we vamoose. I lean in. Don't touch her, I say.
Fudge you. Fudge you and your fudging backpacks.
I'd flip normally, but it's funny. I can't help it. The guttermouth on this otherwise kempt and benign senior citizen. My friend and I sit together for the next five minutes or so, all the while this woman continues her low-key barrage of backpack-related fudge. I'm stupefied. What could possibly make an old lady this cantankerous by 7:30 on a Tuesday morning?