A little old lady on the B-52 bus kicked me, coughed on me but was ultimately trumped by my wit. It was weird. It wasn't pretty.
Here's what happened.
I was playing Tetris on my phone, ignorant to the world outside of colored cubes and digitized Russian music.
(On a side note: Know why those little cubes move so fast? Cause they're Russian!)
So there I'm standing in the aisle of the B-52 bus ready to balance my way back to my Brooklyn apartment. When I feel a soft-but-not-soft-enough-to-merely-be-an-accident kick against my left ankle. And then again.
I look down and a little pointed woman's pump is being kicked against my ankle. I follow the leg up to a modest dress, modest blouse and wrinkled little hands holding a clutch purse and a pursed, wrinkled little face hidden under a terribly ratty wig.
This little old lady was kicking at my ankles and making eye contact while she did it!
I was astounded. I replied to her, "Miss, excuse me." My tone was firm but not nasty. And I slid a little down so she wouldn't kick me. However I confess, not far enough so that it would appear as though I relented.
Anyways, it was a jam packed bus, where was I supposed to go?
The B-52 got to rolling and all during the ride she started, like, totally fake coughing at me at me. And the scrunching up of her face in my direction increased tenfold! It was so bizarre, I was certain the dread spirit of Galina Stoeva had possessed this innocent black lady. But no. Now I know this woman was just plain ole evil. Or perhaps mentally deranged.
Well. I was upset by her weirdo coughing at me. So I began to fake cough back at her!
Which only increased her fake coughing at me.
So there we were. The stocky white boy in a tie and slacks and the little be-wigged grandmother angrily fake coughing at one another.
I needed different ammunition. Ah! I'll play on her homophobia as a passive aggressive tool to piss her off even more.
How did I know she was homphobic? My own racial assumption that all little old ladies in my neighborhood attend Baptist church and therefore hate me. Just a different form of angry coughing.
So I flip out my phone and declare, "Hay gurl! Whats up? Did you buy that new hat? I bet it sure is pretty!" Something along those lines.
It must have worked cause Ms. Fanny Furious began angry coughing, scrunching her face and rolling her eyes. She also started kicking at my ankles again!
Well I was going to angry cough at her in retaliation, but my apartment was rapidy approaching. I finally gave up. The absurdity of it melted any remaining hostility. I chuckled and simply turned to leave the bus.
That's when she turned her entire body, in her seat, and began kicking my ankles WITH BOTH FEET!
I simply couldn't handle this insane behavior any further.
Laughing (but with a hint of WTF? frustration) I asked aloud, "Miss, will you please stop kicking my ankles?"
And she replies in a high pitched voice, "Kicking you?"
And I reply, no longer laughing, "Yes. You've kicked me like five or six times."
And she replies in that annoying high pitched voice, "Five times?"
I couldn't deal any longer. The bus had stopped. I had to get off. I laughed. The young lady standing next to me who'd become witness to the latter half of absurd incident laughed. I was leaving.
Then the old biddy interrogated the back of my head, "Why don't you act like everybody else?"
Oh. No. She. Didn't.
Without missing a beat I tossed over my shoulder, "Why don't you buy a new wig?"
And the entire front of the bus erupted in chuckles. I won.
I WON! I WON! I WON!
I'm certain she's going to stab me with scissors this afternoon.