A co-worker came into the office the other day (first thing in the morning) and announced, “Oh my God, I am having the worst day ever already.”
I of course took the bait and asked “why?,” and she looked at me with such a genuine sadness that for a moment there I was afraid that maybe her cat died, woke up with a sty, mistook horseradish for coffee creamer, and then got a flat tire. She sincerely said, “Starbucks had no more multi-grain bagels, and then the barista mixed up my soy non-fat chai tea with someone else’s skinny caramel latte. It was like she meant to do it just to cause havoc for me.” And with that earth-shattering revelation she signed and awaited my sympathetic retort.
I was not giving her any bit of it because I personally just saw another woman have the worst morning ever…and it just happened to be my fault.
While I was riding the train that rainy Monday morning I was an absolute Eeyore. It was dark, it was wet, I was cold, I lost my tail. You get the picture. But I wasn’t alone. All of us on the train held the same defeated expression and lack of will to exist. I approached my station and prepared to funnel out to the aisles with the rest of the miserable lemmings. I picked up my umbrella which had been drying on the train floor, and while attempting to wrap and re-velcro the umbrella, I see a massive black cockroach on the strap.
My instinctual reaction was to fling the umbrella, but my intention was never to send the roach onward-ho to the poor woman standing in the aisle. This thing hit her directly in the cheek, and the scream she released clearly communicated her disgust and shock. She in-turn flairs about yet again launching the roach onto other passengers. The roach is tossed onto the head of a sharply dressed black man who just begins yelling “Sh*t, Sh*t” as he briskly brushes off his head and body.
Eventually the roach lands on the floor of the train and the passengers, who at this point very closely resembled the River Dance ensemble, begin stomping the ground to ensure it’s squashed. The silence after the pandemonium was broken with the black man’s blunt and LOUD question of “Who throws a bug? I ask you, WHO THROWS a bug?? Sh*t.”
I tried maintaining a level of anonymity until the woman who was initially cold-cocked with the insect investigated in the direction from which it came and noticed the sheer amazement on my face and could quickly determine I was the instigating culprit.
We finally reached the station stop and everyone bustles off of the train, and I noticed most of their expressions changed from gloom to just a full on irritated puss. Eventually I was allowed to merge out of my seat and exit, where I continued to receive the "stank eye" from the riders. Completely aware of the current dislike for me I mumbled “I’m sorry” as I made my way off the train.
I’m sharing this story to note three specific points:
1. The next time you dread a Monday morning or find something minute to complain about, just remember, it could be worse. You could be hit in the face with a cockroach.
2. Most times when someone does generate a level of havoc in your world it was unintentional. Remember that first and offer the benefit of the doubt.
3. If you ever want to really piss off a train of people, launch a bug. This seems to do the trick.
Happy Trails Riders!
Ladies, ever wonder where the phrase "tapped that" originated? Fella's, ever wonder if girls had slumber parties with nighties and pillow fights? Yeah, well me too. The Vagina MonoBlogs takes a proactive but honest point of view on some of these timeless questions and offers some perspectives to apply...or avoid for that matter!
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