№ 1- on public transport
I am an asshole on public transport.
It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but I’ve rationalized it.
First- it’s therapeutic. I spend my entire day smiling more than should be physically possible without messing up your cheek muscles. I guess mine have been strengthened from overuse throughout the years. It’s amazing being able to glare at people rather than smile like a psychopath on narcotics.
Second- it’s what I was taught. If I’m nice to people on public transport, I’m vulnerable. If I’m vulnerable, I will get raped or kidnapped or killed. If I am nice to people on public transport, I will be killed. If I am nice to people on public transport, I will be killed. If I am nice to people on public transport, I will be killed.
Third- it’s easier. I don’t have to worry about what people think of me because I know. They think I’m an asshole. However, it’s on purpose so it doesn’t make me feel bad.
And even though I’ve rationalized it, there are still days where I have to stop and think to myself, ‘I can be an asshole on public transport, but I don’t need to go out of my way to be an asshole.’ There is a thin line between being an asshole and being an unlovable cunt. Something I always remember.
I am not an unlovable cunt.
I am an asshole.
But there are yet other days when I want to go out of my way to be nice to people.
I once bought a rose at a stall next to the metro. The flowers had looked so pretty, I decided that I’d buy one and give it to a person on the way home.
There was this one girl who was sitting on the floor. She was waiting for the bus, as we all were, and I saw her give up her seat on a bench to an old lady. She had smiled and graciously got up. She was sitting there, on the dirty brick floor, headphones in. She looked like she was listening to something from another world. Like it was telling her the meaning of life. I sat down next to her, giving up my clean coat for the ability to know her.
She was shy. She was confused. She was scared. At first, she just shifted away from me. I asked her what she was listening to. She took out an earbud and said the name of a band I’ve forgotten. I wish I hadn’t. I smiled at her, and she was quick to return it.
I told her that I wanted to give her the rose, because she seemed like a good person and because maybe it would make her day. She laughed. I handed her the rose, and she thanked me. “Good things seem to be happening to me today.” she told me.
I didn’t say anything, but thought. ‘Me too.’
Sometimes it’s good to be nice. Sometimes it’s good to be an asshole.
But even though I am an asshole. I am only an asshole when confronted with a situation I don’t want to deal with. “Can I have a ticket for the metro? I can’t afford it.” is usually followed by a quick “No” from me. I’d rather be an asshole than be vulnerable.
But even though I am an asshole, I am appalled at other people’s asshole-ness.
Today, I was on the bus home. I’m on the bus at least once a day, however I’ve never encountered such an asshole.
This old lady had gotten on the bus, and she was about to pull her bag in with her, (she had gotten on first to make it easier to pull it in), and the bus driver closed the doors.
She immediately yelled, “Mr. Driver, stop!”. A group of people knocked on the door of the bus driver to get his attention.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. If anything, it seemed like he sped up.
When we got to the next stop, he poked his head out of the little area for the driver, and said, “Please don’t slow down the bus” and sat back down. Everyone was shocked.
He acted like an asshole and then, when confronted about said asshole-ness, was an asshole about it, and essentially claimed that it was the lady’s fault.
I don’t understand.
The overuse of the word asshole should tell you how much of an asshole this bus driver was.
I don’t understand.
But I would like to.
I’d like to say that being an asshole under the right circumstances is okay, but I don’t think it is.
But still, I’ve rationalized it, right?
Made while listening to this.