We arrive at Union Station. I walk down the stairs and join the queue. I'm standing on the mid-level, right below the stairs. There is a man in front of me and line of people to the door. Some guy stands right behind me. So close that I can't move without touching him. He has a newspaper open and he's reading.
Now, I know that my pesonal space is quite large and I have issues with strangers touching me. But this guy was all up in my face. Or ass, if you will. I kept glancing back but he wouldn't back off.
The queue moves and we're standing at the doorway. He follows right behind me, stepping on my heels. I look back. Give him the evil eye.
When I turn back...and we're still waiting for the doors to open...Bubba has the nerve...the fucking nerve!...to press his fat belly up against me.
I just about hurled. I turned around and glared at him. He just looked at me as if to say "What? You want a piece of this?"
No sir, I do NOT want a piece of you. I can't imagine anyone does.
"Back off!" I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Fucker."
1 comment:
Yay! Love it when people speak up.
I know, in my passive-aggressive way, I tend to back-up my back-pack wearing self to make certain that the person behind me isn't going to become my new friend.
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