To the lady on the Number 41 heading towards dartmouth today at 3:00.
You got on at scotia sqaure and i kindly moved my bags so you could have a seat, even though there was room elsewhere which would not cause problems. so i go to get off at my stop, OBVIOUSLY GATHERING MY THINGS, which you completely ignore, and as I try to get off the bus, you end up tripping me, which knocks me into someone else and i almost stamp their foot off, and then you have the GALL to look at me and say, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”. I was too shocked to believe you had just done and said all of that and consider yourself lucky I didn’t have more time to say nothing more than just, “What’s wrong with you, you fucking cow?”.
Next time I see you, you cock-eyed curmedgonly cunt, I will promptly spit on your fucking feet, which you used to trip me, may they grow infected with pustules as painful and as big as your fucking ego.
You almost ruined my day. Almost. Thankfully I was quickly shown that I am a better person than you, even with my stooping as low as publicly bitching about you and calling you one of the most callow words used to describe a woman.
This article appears in Feb 7-13, 2008.
Maybe I have too ltitle faith in you, but it sounds like you tried to climb over this woman without even saying “excuse me.” Usually even the people who don’t pick up on gathering bags as a sign that you want to get off the bus – they annoy me, too – will move if you acknowledge them directly…