I declared war to a man on the bus
You might remember the girl who, on the bus, was wearing my same shoes, and how I handled the situation with my famous positive attitude *cough cough*. As you have noticed, that was just the first example of things that happen on Melbourne's public transport. Today I want to tell you about that time I lost such attitude and declared war to the man sitting next to me on the bus.
I am not a morning person. Most people mistakenly think I am a 'rise and shine' kind of person because, on those rare occasions when I had to get up early, I would do that unreasonably early. I mean, if most people manage to get up at 7 to be at work or school at 8, I need my alarm to be at 6:12.
The truth is not that I like getting up early, it's more that I need it. When I wake up I am in such a zombie mode that I can barely talk. To other people, that is. Because inside my head I'm having the deepest philosophical monologues about life and things. Until I poke myself in the eye with a mascara wand.
My mother learned to interpret my morning growls, my flatmates knew that before 8 I have to be left absolutely alone, and the boyfriend is still asleep when I wake up. So, you can imagine yours truly, on the 7:35 bus, audio book ready, cuticle oil in place, eyebrows on fleek, and 'some dude' decides to sit on the bus next to me. No, not just next to me but as close to me as he possibly can. Blatantly ignoring any proxemics study ever done about strangers and vicinity, and forgetting that he has a right arm and that said limb is squishing mine against my rib cage, therefore my shoulder against the window. I am literally squished to the window feeling like Poland.
In this situation most people would gently tap the invader on the shoulder and ask to be given the necessary breathing space. Because most people are capable of social interaction before 8 in the morning. I am not. It's war.
I am determined to maintain my position on the battlefield but on the first curve in his favour he gained territory. I opt for a passive aggressive counter attack: reinforcing the battlefront by crossing my arms and pointing my radars on his tablet now clearly trespassing the mid-seat line. Contact was maintained for several tense minutes. Until 0800 hours. I decide to attack elbowing him while reaching for phone, lip gloss, mirror, phone again, in the handbag on my lap. He glances at me while still resiliently leaning onto my shoulder, and strikes by air: his tablet-holding-hand is now touching my bag.
When he finally gets off I let out a sigh of relief. Way to make me start my day.
Image: via
The truth is not that I like getting up early, it's more that I need it. When I wake up I am in such a zombie mode that I can barely talk. To other people, that is. Because inside my head I'm having the deepest philosophical monologues about life and things. Until I poke myself in the eye with a mascara wand.
My mother learned to interpret my morning growls, my flatmates knew that before 8 I have to be left absolutely alone, and the boyfriend is still asleep when I wake up. So, you can imagine yours truly, on the 7:35 bus, audio book ready, cuticle oil in place, eyebrows on fleek, and 'some dude' decides to sit on the bus next to me. No, not just next to me but as close to me as he possibly can. Blatantly ignoring any proxemics study ever done about strangers and vicinity, and forgetting that he has a right arm and that said limb is squishing mine against my rib cage, therefore my shoulder against the window. I am literally squished to the window feeling like Poland.
In this situation most people would gently tap the invader on the shoulder and ask to be given the necessary breathing space. Because most people are capable of social interaction before 8 in the morning. I am not. It's war.
I am determined to maintain my position on the battlefield but on the first curve in his favour he gained territory. I opt for a passive aggressive counter attack: reinforcing the battlefront by crossing my arms and pointing my radars on his tablet now clearly trespassing the mid-seat line. Contact was maintained for several tense minutes. Until 0800 hours. I decide to attack elbowing him while reaching for phone, lip gloss, mirror, phone again, in the handbag on my lap. He glances at me while still resiliently leaning onto my shoulder, and strikes by air: his tablet-holding-hand is now touching my bag.
When he finally gets off I let out a sigh of relief. Way to make me start my day.
Image: via
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