Beast of a Woman

This afternoon the 5 train is miserably packed like a cattle car. Not that this is out of the norm, however a horrid woman is insisting she get on even though there is obviously not a space for her. She is semi-middle aged, has caramel-colored skin and a graying funky afro. Tall and broad, she has the authoritative presence of a cover model of a 1980s feminist magazine. She decides to body slam her way in, leaving not even a millimeter of space now for anyone to breath.

To make matters worse, as we start to move Power Afro insists there is some space in the middle of the car and tries to tell everyone to move in so she won’t be squished against the door. No one even looks at her because there is clearly no place to move to. She announces she is taking matters into her own hands and tries to plow her way to where there is supposedly more room. Of course she doesn’t get more than a body or two deep. Power Afro ends up jammed next to me, squishing my rib cage until I can barely breath. I push against her because well I am not pushing against the person on the other side of me when this whole mess her fault. Power Afro tightens her body and pushes back at me. We stand against each other ass cheek to ass cheek. Thank god it is not summer as we are semi-protected by our winter coats. We are now digging up against each other in a silent power struggle. Who does she think she is? If I ever had a homicidal tendency it would be now. I really did want to rip this woman up.

She wins however as I abandon ship and squeeze off at Union Square, a stop before I really have to change over to the 6. Another day of defeat.