Last night we had the most bizarre thunderstorms. The thunder was nothing like I've ever heard--not just a clap here and there but a steady roll with random bursts of loud crashing. It was so constant that it was impossible to determine whether or not the lightning was coming first since it could have come with any of the grumbles of thunder.
As much as I hate to admit it, the terrorists have beaten me on a lot of battles, and electrical storms are one of them. Especially on a night like last night where it was unusual thunder and random lightning, I kept repeating to myself that it was just thunder but man that one sure didn't sound like normal thunder but it's just thunder but if it's not how am I going to know. Factor in the key landmark in my neighborhood, and how I flip out just about any time a fire, police, ambulance, and some other siren I can never recognize go blaring down the street all at once, needless to say, I didn't get much sleep last night.
Figuring I could bank on the whole bad-thunderstorm possible-power-outage excuse, I slept in a bit. I realized on my way in that I had a real excuse to be late: I had to hit Staples on the way in to get some materials I need for a project I'm working on. It's fucking hot out there and my bag just kept getting heavier. Neither the local Staples or Office Depot had what I need.
Then of course, I had to realize that we bought the shittiest GBC Binder available, with the smallest capacity possible. How *us* to save the extra $40 to get something that's only good for one use, never to even think that someday someone may need to bind more than 90 sheets. Urgh.
And some fuck put the empty ice cube tray back in the fridge. And the FedEx bullshit of last month has happened again. Fucking Christ. edit: almost. Crisis averted.
All of this bullcrap, however, did not pile up high enough to surmount the unique bliss that comes from a quick game of Urban Commando. Yes folks, the Justice Guerrilla struck again this morning.
Whenever I have a choice of open seats, I always choose the one where the schmo next to it has their leg/bag/"oops someone left this copy of the Fake Paper here" in the empty seat next to them, indicating to the world that they either would prefer to or somehow think they deserve to sit alone on the bench.
As the bus jerked forward I surveyed my position: about five or so seats scattered about the bus. Right by the back door was one next to a woman that I would have chosen anyway, but oh the glee that washed over me as I saw her bag draped across the open seat. I made a grand gesture of taking my bags off my shoulder, slowly turned around, stood in front of the seat situating myself to sit down. I assume in total I gave her twenty seconds to keep her bag from getting ass all over it, but it was not enough. She didn't budge.
I didn't necessarily plop down on the seat--it was more of a place-and-slide--and while I made sure I didn't sit on it so hard it would hurt me if there was something pointy in there, I sat on her bag.
Over my iPod I heard her squeal "OH! I had a banana in there!" I did my best puzzled look and she went on, pulling the banana out of her bag to examine it "oohwuh, you couldda said somethinguh," and then she said a few more things that I couldn't make out over my music. "Hey," I shrugged, "I didn't realize your banana got its own seat."
Has Banana Lady learned a lesson today? Possibly. Is she telling the flipside of this story to someone in her office break room today? Definitely. Will she be a little more vigilant over her banana-placement in the future? As long as I comb the city, seeking out the rude and striking with a stealthy counterbalance, let's sure hope she does. Not that I have anything against bananas.