Assault Before My Coffee

It's a typical Thursday morning, meaning, I'm running late.  By Thursdays, my energy level and tolerance for the workweek is at roughly zero.  On Thursdays I’m usually depressed it’s not yet Friday and therefore my casual Friday outfit that I’ve been planning to wear since last Friday is still sadly hanging in my closet and I’m bitter I’m in a suit.  So, to give you the Cliff’s Notes version, I’m not a happy person on Thursday mornings.  Due to other work and personal crises, on this particular Thursday, I was extra defeated. 

I try to use the Capital Bikeshare as often as possible for my commute, but of late, Mother Nature has decided August has arrived in June, so I’m using the air conditioned Metro instead.  Since it is dangerously close to 9am, the Metro is packed.  I squeeze into a train car and find a spot right by a safety pole, find a spot for my hand to hold on to and I hang on for dear life.  If you haven’t had the chance to ride on the DC Metro, let me explain that the trains are super jerky, stop in the tunnels all the time and if you’re not holding on you will fall. 

The “gentleman” (I’m prone to use foul language but while we’re getting to know each other, I’ll keep it clean) next to me I guess never got the memo on the nature of Metro trains and their jerky nature.  How did I come to this conclusion?  Well, the asshole "gentleman" (must remember, clean language!) lifted his hand off the safety pole to do only God knows what and shocker of shockers, the train jerked.  As he flails about to try to get his hand back on the pole, he straight up slaps me across the face.  Yep.  I was legit slapped across the face on my morning commute. 

 “Oh sugar, please!  You did NOT just slap me across the face,” is what I would have said had I not been in such a state of shock.  “Oh sugar, please!  You did NOT just put your hand on my shoulder as a gesture of apology,” is what would have followed once he decided that one type of bad-touch wasn’t enough and another was required.  Instead he got a death glare (if you know me, you know it’s scary) and an emphatic, “Don’t TOUCH ME.” 

So I guess the moral of the story is: Sugar, if you’re on the metro, hold the fuck on.  If you do happen to commit assault and battery before 9am, sugar, do not attempt to apologize with more assault and battery.  Nemaste.