My recent journey to work via public transport brought me face to face with the Wicked Bitch of the West. The supposed mythical character that only seemed to appear in exaggerated stories told by others and fuelled by anger actually existed! And she was on my train this morning!
I entered the carriage and took the most appropriate seat. I typically ask myself a couple of questions before picking a seat.
Are there any free seats? No? How about three seaters with a space? No? Well two seater it is. Is there one with a seemingly skinny person so it doesn’t become too uncomfortable while our thighs rub? Bingo! The Bitch!
I firstly sat down and accidentally sat on the side of her Prada bag. (Seriously. She’s heading towards the city from the west with a Prada bag!) She rudely snatched it from near me which I thought nothing of. Heaven forbid contact with my regular discount store jeans come in contact with such a prestigious yet horrendously ugly bag!
At this point, Miss Bitch (I’m assuming she’s single because quite frankly I don’t know what relationship she can sustain other than that with her bag. Is that why she was so protective?) Yells into her phone to the very unfortunate person on the other end “F**k my life! Are you kidding me?! No. I’m not talking to you”.
I can see her glaring at me from the corner of my eye. She’s obviously talking to me.
Upon ending her phone conversation, she looked at me (I’m looking at my novel) “surely there’s another seat?!”
To which I responded by ignoring her, turning the page of my novel and chuckling at a supposedly funny scene.
Sorry Wicked Bitch of the West. This is a public train. PUBLIC. No, there aren’t any other seats. You’re on a public train. People will sit next to you. If you’re so concerned about who sits next to you on your way to work, dust off that witch’s broom of yours and fly there!
Rules for Humanity: if you’re seriously concerned about who you will encounter on a train, invest in your own transportation. It’s public for a reason!