| Current mood: |  calm |
| Current music: | Nick Drake- "Fly" |
A bus seat standoff
There are a lot of old women in Buenos Aires. More so than any other place I've ever lived in. Too many of them, slowing the whole city down, curled frames, ridiculously sized eyeglasses, hair dyed in shades that make them look like they're wearing the purple Teletubby's pubic hair. I didn't mind them before but now I can't stand them. They smell like a combination of formaldehyde and some kind of industrial disinfectant product. The number has increased exponentially in the last few months-- rushing down a street is no longer an option. They crowd the buses, too. Just a couple days ago I was sitting near the back of the bus and one old lady with enormous shopping bags walked in, right past the seats near the front that were reserved for the elderly or otherwise challenged, and loomed in front of me for the most part of the bus trip. As if expecting me to get up and give her my spot, and was so shocked and horrified by the fact that I didn't that she just decided to keep standing there, staring at me, out of spite. It was a standoff. After about 15 or 20 minutes, she sighed in exasperation (loud enough for me to hear it) and walked back to the empty seats near the front. I got up and rang for the stop, victorious.
I ended up getting off about 8 or 7 stops after I actually needed to, but it was worth it. The old lady regime must be overthrown. I actually don't know whether there's less old ladies in Colombia or if we just keep them locked up, where they belong.
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funkyplatypus) wrote,
