Time: Nine-thirtysomething AM Place: The B-Line, at Broadway and Heather
I am sitting sideways in the “please get up if old or disabled people get on the bus” seats. My backpack is on the floor in front of me and my feet are straddling it, so the people in front of me have room to stand. This woman gets on. She looks about 47 years old and healthy. She’s holding two of those hanging strap handle things. She kind of slowly starts stepping forward; she’s in my foot’s path. I try to move ol’ lefty out of the way, but there’s no room. She steps on my toe.
“Excuse me, you’re on my foot. Ma ‘am?” I say, meekly.
Not only does she not respond, but she puts more weight on my foot. (It’s become clear that she’s leaning on my foot to pull the “Next Stop” cord, very slowly.
A bit more firmly: “You’re on my foot.”
She finally pulls the cord and returns to her original, not on my foot, stance.
I look up at her. She kind of squints at me, then won’t meet my gaze.
I look around, to see if anyone else is as shocked at this total display of rudeness. I don’t know why I’d expect them to care.
1) If you stand on someone’s foot long enough for them to have to bring it to your attention twice, to get off, wouldn’t you at least feel bad enough (or at least ashamed enough) to apologize? 1a) Wouldn’t you get off their foot the first time they said something?
2) Did she really need to step on my foot to ring the bell for Granville? It’s a common stop. Couldn’t she have a) waited to see if someone else was going to ring? b) asked me or the woman sitting next to me to ring it for her?
3) What would have to be your problem if you instead stepped on someone’s foot and not apologized/gotten off their foot faster? Did she a) not speak English? b) not have the ability to hear at all? c) have some kind of actual handicap? d) if a or b is true, how could she not feel me trying to pull my foot out from under her weight? e) think I was some kind street hustler or drug addict who would somehow try to extort money from her if she deigned to speak to me?
This is what I thought about all the way from Granville to school, as I drank my coffee and ate my Starbucks blueberry-and-cardboard muffin.
My day got better though; its pinnacle? Definitely meeting Alex downtown and getting giant Indian dinner at India Bistro. We had the lamb methi — which is lamb curry cooked with fenugreek leaves — and the malai kofta — potato and cheese dumplings in a cashew curry sauce. I wouldn’t have the malai kofta again: the dumplings were good, but the sauce was really buttery and sweet and so mild that it just kind of reminded us both of Lipton Sidekicks noodles. It wasn’t unpleasant, it just wasn’t exactly what I’d want when going out for Indian food. The lamb was killer though: spicy and garlicky and fall-apart-on-my-fork tender.