Mutterfucker

I seem to have a knack for getting into altercations on public transit lately. I blame the muni; they are strange, mystical vessels which encourage disaster. Buses are like jails, humming holding cells on wheels. We're held captive inside them, counting stops like years, waiting for our destinations like prisoners waiting for appeals. Where else could a bum, a businessman, and a gay leather-clad transvestite in stilettos sit together, in perfect harmony, while serenaded by the sweet song of crying babies and hood-rats talking loudly on cell phones?

Tonight, on my way home from visiting a friend, I was a passenger on one such crude and loveless bus. Deep in thought, distracted and amused by my musings, I sat mindlessly in my seat as it carried me home. When I neared my stop I heard the familiar slapping of wire against the window, followed by the ping of the bus PA. Someone had pulled the cord to signal the driver to stop. By this time the sun had almost completely set and the sky had that beautiful blue charcoal colorcast over it. I got up from my seat, stepped down, and walked off the bus. As I exited though, someone hurled the word thanks at my back with such force that the spearhead ripped through the front of my shirt after it jutted out from my bellybutton. I stopped and turned around to see what kind of heinous crime I had committed, to check whether or not someone was hurt. I saw a middle-aged man with sweaty glasses and disheveled black hair fumbling through the back door with an unwieldily piece of luggage.

I quickly assessed the situation and delivered the appropriate reply. "Excuse me," I said, "please, don't do that." Incredulous and seething with unconcealed frustration, that man stammered and said, "you see me getting off the bus and you couldn't hold the door?" No, I signaled with my tick-tock index finger:

"Let's think about what you just said to me and then consider the assumptions you've made; mainly that I should have been paying attention to you; that your needs are somehow more important than mine, and that I should have aided you by holding the door. What arrogance to think that you are something more than a silent extra in the backdrop of my life. How inconsiderate, selfish, and self-absorbed. What's more is that if I had been distracted, thinking about my sick father, or trying to remember what it was that I needed to pickup at the store before going home, or simply appreciating the color of the sky, that I am a useless, idiotic and ignorant individual. You must believe that I am not entitled to my own thoughts and concerns if they do not reduce your inconvenience. I do not exist to serve you and your means. I had no knowledge of your existence at all until you passive aggressively shouted thanks at me. If it were so important to you that I help you exit the bus, why hadn't you asked for my help before I stepped down? It is because you are the type of person that wants to be incensed. The worst thing about you isn't your self-centeredness, it's your worldview. You chose to believe that I was paying attention to you but out of sheer malice and apathy I decided not to help you. Really? Give me a break dude, I don't care enough about you not to care about you. If I thought you needed help, I would've helped you. The fact of the matter is I didn't know you needed it, so I'm giving it to you now: don't make assumptions about the intentions of strangers."

He was flummoxed. He huffed and yanked his mammoth red wheeled suitcase behind him and went off muttering.