268. Welcome to New York punks.

I just got this email from my friend, Ronnie in response to my last blog post.

“I was on a crosstown bus last week (before the storm). When I got to the bus there were a bunch of people waiting to get on.

A small older man in his seventies dyed brown hair, dressed well, carrying two bags from the supermarket was arguing with the bus driver to take his dollars.  After 5 good minutes of making everyone wait, the bus driver let him on without paying.

He took a single seat.  I forgot to say that I was thinking of giving him coins when we were on line but the driver gave him the free ride first.

Anyway, I sat right behind him. I had my legs crossed and my crossed leg was facing him, not at all on him, at least a foot from him.

After a few stops he turned around to me and started screaming at me loudly “Get that food away from me. they let trash on this bus”  I didn’t answer him.

Then I leaned over and  asked him to take his bags out of the aisle since someone could fall on them.

He ignored me. I had to change my seat. I was boiling.

When I got up to leave I kicked his bags hard with my shoe and pushed them down the aisle.

Now isn’t that a good response?”

I never loved Ronnie more.


			

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