Bikram: 900 calories burned
Water: about 2 liters
Calories Consumed: 0

The Muni driver announces that only the front door of some of the train cars are working and the double doors on some may not open. Please use the front foor.

A woman with obnoxiously long nails is tapping away on the screen of her Blackberry and is standing in the front door of the N Judah inbound train. Most of the train, at this point, has emptied out by now as we’re almost at Embarcadero, where I need to get off.

She manages to spread her feet as wide as the doorway and has planted a firm stance there. I assume she will be getting off at Embarcadero, so it won’t be a problem for the rest of the us to get out. I am about 5 feet behind her.

She is holding the pole with one hand and is managing to hold her Blackberry and still type at the same time with her insanely long fingernails. She is defying the laws of nature. I cannot explain how she was doing this. She paused once to reach up, check her reflection in the Muni door and fix her smudged lipstick. She is wearing a beige plaid Burberry scarf and has a blond ponytail. For this reason alone I would like to raise my right foot and launch it at the middle of her back.

Because I can.

But I just survived an hour and a half of Bikram. My chakras are aligned. I should be calm. I relatively am, but I feel something brewing, something bad underneath my skin. I am also hungry as fuck.

The train pulls into Embarcadero and people get up and gather their belongings and make their way to the door. The door that she is blocking in its entirety. The door opens and I feel the surge of people behind me so I step forward. She does not budge. I feel the coffee breath of 20 people behind me, breathing down my neck.

“Excuse me,” I say to her blond ponytail as she has not yet moved an inch as she taps taps taps on her Blackberry screen, one hand still on the pole, one hand texting away. She does not acknowledge my presence in the slightest.

I hear the crowd rustle behind me annoyed.

“Excuse me,” I say louder and she turns around, looks at me and looks back down at her Blackberry.

“Give me a sec,” she says.

A chorus of grunts and exclamations come from the crowd behind.

“I can only do one thing at a time,” she says as she continues to tap tap tap.

“Seriously?” I step over one of her legs and check her in the shoulder with mine and make my way out the door. People behind me start to follow through the gap I had made into the Muni Station.

“Jesus Christ!” I hear her exclaim.

As I make my way towards the escalator I reply without looking back. “Bitch!”

“What did you call me?!” She yells. I turn and see that she has started moving with the rest of the crowd in my direction. I size her up. I outweigh her by a good 70 lbs.

“I called you a bitch,” I said again. A man walking next to me who I assume was on our train car and had seen this play out turned around and addressed her.

“I second that!” he yelled back.

I look at him. I want to hug him.


“No problem,” he said as we stepped onto the escalator together. “People like that need to die.”


“You’re awesome. “You made my day.”


“No,” he said and smiled,” Thank you.

I should never have this much adrenaline before 9:00 AM. Public Transportation seems to be a battle for me these days. Especially in the morning.


2 Responses to “Bishes”

  1. 1 Alicia January 29, 2009 at 6:19 pm

    Your simple response of “I called you a bitch” has me in tears. I’ve never been able to say something like that to someone.

  2. 2 Rory January 29, 2009 at 9:07 pm

    SeriouslyI am GLAD you called her a bitch

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January 2009
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  • RT @skstock: We need to stop glamorizing working at 150%. That extra 50% is a loan from your future self. Eventually you’ll need to collect… 3 days ago



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