Yesterday, I wrote about being kind to someone who had spilled hot coffee all over me. I spoke too soon. I wrote yesterday’s piece on Monday, before the following events.
Wednesday afternoon, I was walking down a crowded Lexington Ave, and a small blonde woman cut me off and ran over my feet twice with her heavy rolling suitcase. She scuffed up my shoes and banged up my toes.
The woman then slowed down and I could not walk any further because the suitcase was in my way and she had trapped me in a sea of people. So I kicked her suitcase. Twice.
I am not saying what I did was right, but she knew that she had run me over, and never said she was sorry or made any effort to knowledge the situation. I despise this kind of thing.
From behind she looked like a woman in her 40’s, but as I started yelling, “HEY! HEY!”, she turned around and I saw a heavily wrinkled face of someone in their late 70’s.
Despite her elderly status, I yelled, “You ran over me twice with your suitcase. Why don’t you watch where you are going, or at least apologize?!”
The woman looked at me, pursed her wrinkled lips, and shook her head.
Most days I feel like a hybrid of Rodney Dangerfield and Sisyphus walking around NYC, and sometimes I just need to stand up for myself.
Hopefully I got it out of my system and can go back to working on my “kinder” responses.