sidewalk scuffle
It’s that time of the week again when I have bled every source of work dry and I’m left wondering how I’m going to pass the time constructively. So far I have emailed anyone who I know will respond; made a shopping list for the weekend (and planned out meals); thought about doing my assignment and determined I’m “not in the right frame of mind”; disrupted anyone within a 2m radius of my desk and then decided that blogging was the most stimulating of all.
My day started out on a bad footing. As I disembarked the No. 14 bus, while chatting on my mobile to Fox, I heard a lady yelling something behind me but I ignored her as I thought she was just having a go at someone else. The next thing I hear is her saying to the person on her mobile, “Sorry, some girl just cut in front of me.” She then turned to give me a death stare and stormed away in a huff.
I was “some girl”. Hello! All I did was to get off the blinking bus…lady!!! I was so mad. I thought of a million different names to call “Miss Highness of the Pavement” but by that stage she was toddling off in her mean-spirited, huffy way. See, even now, just thinking about it gets me riled up. “Love of Jesus, Rox, love of Jesus…”
It wasn’t so much her reaction that upset me as it was her attitude that, to me, reflected the attitude of a million Londoners on any given weekday morning. There are just too many people in this city. Jo pointed out, last night, that her personal space boundaries have significantly decreased since living in London as she has been forced to become accustomed to having people in ‘her space’ so much of the time; a crowded tube, sharing couches in Starbucks or bargain battling in Primark (okay, maybe that’s just me!).
I had to put some worship music on my WalkmanÒ just to gain control after the sidewalk incident. This city really stretches you to the limits of yourself. If you want to know what you’re made of, London will tell you. I remember, as a child, I would slink beneath the table if my dad ever complained about food in a restaurant. When I returned from my first stint in London, my family nearly choked on their Spur burgers when I was the first to pipe-up to the waiter when I wasn’t satisfies with my meal. A part of me had become tough and no one was going to walk over me.
Maybe pavement-lady has just been here too long. Not only will she disallow people to walk over her, but it seems she has developed an aversion to people walking beside her too.
I hope I never become so tough that I can’t share a bit of sidewalk with a stranger.
My day started out on a bad footing. As I disembarked the No. 14 bus, while chatting on my mobile to Fox, I heard a lady yelling something behind me but I ignored her as I thought she was just having a go at someone else. The next thing I hear is her saying to the person on her mobile, “Sorry, some girl just cut in front of me.” She then turned to give me a death stare and stormed away in a huff.
I was “some girl”. Hello! All I did was to get off the blinking bus…lady!!! I was so mad. I thought of a million different names to call “Miss Highness of the Pavement” but by that stage she was toddling off in her mean-spirited, huffy way. See, even now, just thinking about it gets me riled up. “Love of Jesus, Rox, love of Jesus…”
It wasn’t so much her reaction that upset me as it was her attitude that, to me, reflected the attitude of a million Londoners on any given weekday morning. There are just too many people in this city. Jo pointed out, last night, that her personal space boundaries have significantly decreased since living in London as she has been forced to become accustomed to having people in ‘her space’ so much of the time; a crowded tube, sharing couches in Starbucks or bargain battling in Primark (okay, maybe that’s just me!).
I had to put some worship music on my WalkmanÒ just to gain control after the sidewalk incident. This city really stretches you to the limits of yourself. If you want to know what you’re made of, London will tell you. I remember, as a child, I would slink beneath the table if my dad ever complained about food in a restaurant. When I returned from my first stint in London, my family nearly choked on their Spur burgers when I was the first to pipe-up to the waiter when I wasn’t satisfies with my meal. A part of me had become tough and no one was going to walk over me.
Maybe pavement-lady has just been here too long. Not only will she disallow people to walk over her, but it seems she has developed an aversion to people walking beside her too.
I hope I never become so tough that I can’t share a bit of sidewalk with a stranger.
posted by foxy_roxtar at 3:59 AM
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