November 13, 2009
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Rude
I have met the rudest woman in the world. And she is sitting next to me. Again. And I am supposed to apologize. I am spending the whole bus ride summoning up love. It isn’t coming. She would sit next to me two days in a row. God is laughing at me. I saved a seat for Aninha on the bus. This lady picks up my books, sits down, and puts my books in her lap. I explain that it is saved for my friend. She says you cannot save seats. Bull. She doesn’t move. I explain again. She ignores. I speak English. She speaks Portuguese. Neither one listens to the other. I cannot believe her rudeness. She is no Rosa Parks. I tell her she has no manners and I am shocked at her behavior. She ignores. I fume. I haven’t been this mad in a long time.
Aninha says to let it go. I stew. Off the bus, the other girls contemplate her demise. She’s done this to many others. I feel guilty. Tonight a guy is sitting next to me. A guy who likes to talk so he can listen to himself. I am slightly bothered but have an incredible ability to tune out Portuguese and do so successfully. He stands to continue the conversation with the row across from us, and I feel a familiar heat rising—the rude woman is back, she slipped into his seat and doesn’t return it to him. She is tired and wants to sit.
I speak in English, she speaks in Portuguese. We fall into this rut, because it is safer for me and normal for her. If she doesn’t understand what I am saying, do I still have to apologize? What? God, no, do I really have to forgive her? And apologize? I give a weak attempt. She ignores. Maybe I will see her on the bus tomorrow.
