The Yuck Bus Stops Here
This happened in my first year at uni, about eight years ago, when I was twenty. The bus I had to take to uni was the most popular route in town, meaning it was always packed. Because I got on at the first stop, I always had a window seat, which meant that someone was usually sitting next to me when I had to get off, and I had to do the awkward thing of lifting my backpack and straightening up in an exaggerated fashion to show them that they had to stand to let me pass. No problem, usually, just a bit awkward for socially awkward me.
One morning, a guy in his forties sat next to me and promptly man-spread across my seat, pushing his leg right up to mine. I thought it was weird, but hey, maybe this guy had a painfully swollen scrotum or a lack of self-awareness. Or both. Anyway, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, and as he was focused on his phone and ignored me, I did the same for the rest of the journey.
Then, when we were getting close to my stop, I started the awkward “I have to get off so let me pass” show. No reaction. I stood up from my seat. Still no reaction.
Me: “Sir?”
No reaction. I tapped his shoulder.
Me: “Sir, I need to get off. Can you let me pass?”
The guy looked up at me and replied with the widest, most disgusting grin.
Guy: “Well, sweetie, looks like you’re gonna have to squeeze past me. No problem for such a skinny girl, right?”
Some of the passengers standing around us noticed and were about to intervene, but I was PISSED because, at that point, I had missed my stop, and I wasn’t sure if he was a pervert or just liked to piss on people’s days, but I didn’t want him to win. Also, no one had ever called me skinny. I have what one could call “child-bearing hips”, thank you very much.
Me: *Smiling at him* “Okay, have it your way.”
My backpack was filled with half a dozen library books that I was going to return that day, and it was bulky and heavy AF. Usually, I would have put it on after leaving the crowded bus, but not that day. I shouldered my backpack so it was hanging at the right height and clumsily, forcefully, and (just in case he was indeed a pervert) in no way sexily squeezed past the guy, dragging my huge backpack across his face. If I leaned back to make sure to really get his nose, well, that surely wasn’t intentional. And if he emitted any pain-fuelled protests, well, they must have been muffled by my backpack.
As I was standing by the door waiting for the next stop, I looked back to see him covering his nose with his hand. It looked like he was checking if it was bleeding, but I don’t think it was. He might have had a scratch or two from my backpack, but he wasn’t injured or anything. His pride was, though. He kept glaring at me for the glorious half-minute it took for the bus to reach the next stop.
I was in such a good mood that I didn’t mind walking back to where I was supposed to get off.