Few things irritate fellow LIRR passengers than a bag occupying a seat. Anticipating my inability to heave a standard rolling bag into the minuscule overhead shelf, I prepared.
“Is this seat free?”
One stop outside of Wyandanch.
“No, thank you.”
I am tempted to reach into my backpack for the travel size bottle of wine I’m carrying.
I want to save it for the exact moment.
Dirty looks follow when I return to applying eyeliner. I can see the party of three. Desperate to occupy my facing four seat area, they stand there. The train departs onward.
“Uh, can you move that bag?”
A please would have changed my words. As would this Spanish speaking gaggle from assuming I was ‘stupid’. (Seriously, my bangs have opened a new world. I must look Egyptian.)
And so I breathed deeply before saying, “No, I cannot. My bag has a ticket.”
They didn’t believe. I tugged it from the handy storage of a boob. (What? I’m not the only woman to keep things in their bra.)
There couldn’t be more pissed off folks this side of Jamaica.
As they cussed my things I do not know how to translate, that was the time.
Thank you Sutter Home 😊 I may have forgotten a cup, a straw or items required to be civil. But taking a deep sip from your plastic storage was … wonderful.
Hear Me Roar 