I almost smacked a bitch down on the Staten Island Ferry landing Tuesday afternoon. As a general rule, I am not an overtly confrontational person. I, like most New Yorkers, will communicate my displeasure with my peers through a hefty dose of icy glances and lots of passive-aggressive sighing. It’s a code we abide by, the universal and tacit language of “You are pissing me off.”
For the most part, though, I understand that we all have bad days, and sometimes we are not at our best, and if someone shoots you an icy look when you already feel like crap, it can send the day into an irreparable downward spiral. More than once I’ve cried to James {who is excellent, and never even implies I may be too sensitive, even when I am} that people in this city are so horribly MEAN. I never want to be the one to send someone home crying, so for the sake of empathy, I usually handle my displeasure with Awful People by taking a huge dose of Suck It Up.
Not today.
Today I choked {fine, on air, but STILL, not breathing is not breathing} while waiting for the ferry back to Manhattan, home of the gloriously snobby, who never would have done anything more about my coughing fit than take a courtesy step away from me, lest I be a contagious leper.
But there was this couple behind me. And they were so damn obnoxious. I first overheard them and all I could think of their banal conversation was, “GOD I hope James and I do not sound like that when we talk in public.” {I’m sure we do, which is why I’m now shuffling “Captain America” and “1970s horror film” into our “Private Discussions” folder from here on out.} The guy, especially, was ridiculous. Condescending and self righteous and just loathsome. He kept stomping his Haviana knock-off and demanding to know how long it TAKES to disembark a ferry. GOD.
She was no better. Her voice was nasally, and her hair was over-processed bottle-blonde. To each her own, as far as style goes, but you could tell she wasn’t naturally unattractive. She made herself unattractive in her choices of makeup styling and improper dress for her body type. {Yea. I admit to wearing leggings for pants today, but you can bounce a quarter off my ass. So, I don’t think the look is overtly inappropriate because I can carry it off.}
I was ready to let them just be– not turn around or shoot them a look. Whatever, right? Besides, I was too busy choking.
The coughing fit lasted longer than it should have, admittedly, because I tried to stifle it. Toward the end, I thought I heard the guy make a bitchy comment about “swine flu.”
Uh–pardon me?
Maybe I am mistaken, I thought. But no, I distinctly heard him make another, more audible and more articulate comment about swine flu, and then the blonde giggled.
I looked up at the doorway out to the loading docks, which at the Staten Island side of the ferry are retractable glass walls. As I was in front of the horrid couple, I could clearly make out their reflection. And what happened next got me so angry I couldn’t help but stand up for myself.
In the reflection, I saw him pantomime slowly hitting me in the back of the head with his umbrella. Blondie erupted into giggles again, as he pulled his arm back and repeated the motion. I had just, JUST regained my composure and I have no shame in admitting I used my first breath to whip around, look him in the face and say, “I can see you in the door’s reflection.” I held his eye contact long enough to watch his pudgy, white cheeks flush crimson.
He shrugged, nervously but indignantly. I could tell he was embarrassed for getting caught. I thought it was settled so I broke the glare and turned back around. But LO! He muttered something again about swine flu!
I whipped back around and said evenly but assertively, right to his fat crimson cheeks, “I’m not sick. I was choking. I apologize if that was inconvenient for you.” I shot his blonde girlfriend a look, to drive the point home, and started to turn back around again, when she actually had the nerve to mutter in my direction, “It’s not illegal to hold an umbrella.”
I summoned all the composure and contempt I could muster, locked my eyes on hers and glared so ferociously I could feel her soul quiver. “Neither is coughing,” I stated strongly, in a solid, we-are-not-negotiating tone.
That did it. Both remained silent for the next 60 seconds, before we boarded the ferry. I shook the whole ferry ride back to Manhattan, and called Maxine as soon as I had disembarked to scold her on how awful her people are. She commended me on refraining from both violence and cussing.
It’s true. I was assertive, not overly aggressive and completely in the right. It’s one thing to bend over backwards if your fiancée wants to fill the kitchen with smoke and burn the tips of his fingers off so you can put wax seals on engagement party invitations. Whatever. In life, I understand that you have to pick your battles or you’ll perpetually find yourself railing against the world.
But it’s something else entirely to be a doormat because people who don’t have any decency assume that they intimidate people who do.
No, sir. Not the case.
I’m sure they spent the whole ride to Manhattan talking about what an awful bitch I was, being so sensitive to their fun. I don’t care. I hope one day they learn to understand how their words and actions can be insulting and hurtful, how hard kindness is to come by and how we all choke in public {literally, metaphorically, whatever} eventually.
When it happens to them, I hope they are sent a person who shows them empathetic kindness– someone like the gentleman who sat next to me on the ferry and gave me a bottle of water because he saw me coughing.
But until that day, I hope their freakin’ flip-flops break. God some people are SO MEAN!
-MM.
