Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 34
Today a train barreled into the station revealing a mass of twisted limbs, purses, hair-dos and jackets through every flashing window. I glanced at the station marquee.

Next train -- 7 minutes

Determined, I clamped one arm over my shoulder bag and headed for the doors. I somehow managed to squeeze down the isle to a pole in the middle of the train and after a minute, was engrossed in my book.

Suddenly a hip-checking bump caused me to wobble on one heel. My sideways glance was met with the icy stare of an older lady. I offered a polite "I'm-sorry-you-bumped-me" smile and continued reading.

As the train began moving, my right side crumpled under an unknown weight. I could feel my spine cracking and urgently looked over my shoulder. The lady grabbed the handle of my purse (my very beautiful, could-only-afford-it-on-sale purse) and was twisting and pulling to regain her balance.

I expected an embarrassed cough and apologetic smile. Instead, her accusing stare pierced my soul, marking me the violator.

"Excuse me," I offered.

"Excuse ME," she sarcastically retorted.

She jabbed her hand toward the pole, overlapping my fingers, which I quickly shifted downward. I moved to my left and she filled the space, rolling her eyes and huffing in exasperation.

Stunned, I replaced the (gorgeous) purse on my shoulder and fixed my eyes on my open book. As I peered over the pages, the lady removed her hand from the pole and lifted it to her mouth to cover two damp coughs. She resumed her grip and re-furrowed her brow.

Maybe next time I'll forego the middle isle for a crowded spot near the door (even at the risk of skirt danger). I love my purse (and health) too much for this abuse.

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