What happens in a yogi’s mind, stays in a yogi’s mind

Today, I boarded a tightly packed train bound for New York City.  It’s a regular commuter train, I take it often and it was during a busy time so I wasn’t surprised about the squeeze I had to induce to get a seat.

When it comes to transport, I am a sitter. There is nothing I despise more than having to stand for long periods of time – I’ll ignore your grandmother if I have to (I won’t for long, but I will for about 3 seconds until my conscience steps in) – so generally I am like a hawk looking for empty seat prey when I step on board.

I found my prey, in between a window and an aisle seat and promptly swooped in.  I kindly asked the lady in the aisle seat if I could squeeze in past her for the middle seat or she was also welcome to simply slide over.  I squeezed.

Like most modern women, I carry a satchel of a week’s worth of living – a handbag (read; over embellished suitcase) and it was raining so I had a large scarf and a light jacket – nothing more than any other person on the train.  Of course. compressing this load to fit into the postage stamp sized seat I was parked on, took some wiggling around.

My flurry of activity to settle in my seat, which entailed putting my bag on my lap and pulling out my book, didn’t seem to worry my daydreaming window neighbor, but it slowly bred some huffing and puffing from my overstuffed, tightly bound, book reading aisle neighbor.

It was when I decided to pull out my earplugs to listen to my iPod and accidentally brushed her arm, that I noticed her subsequent death stare and condescending eye roll (all eye rolling is condescending, come to think of it ) and then I felt this warm sensation rising in me – and I hadn’t wet my pants – It was rage.

So I yelled – In my head –  “Really?  Really?  Look bitch, It’s a packed train and I am not intending to knock you, in fact I don’t care to touch you, but since you want to get fresh (I didn’t really say that – probably something more nerdy like snarky) about it let’s go.  If you lost a few kilos your arm wouldn’t be crossing over  into the air of my seat territory and I wouldn’t be knocking it.  It’s not surprising that you’re reading a book called ‘How to improve your marriage without talking about it‘ good luck with that – why don’t you try rolling your eyes and grunting…oh wait!  You probably already do that.’

So I said (after I took a deep breath of course)  “Oh, I am so sorry”……….and then, in my head said to her;

“I love you.  You’re perfect”

I’m exhausted.

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