Friday, March 05, 2010

Two Fights in Two Days

When I had braces at 13, my orthodontist Dr. Tenenbaum would twist the little screws on my teeth a tiny bit on each visit over two years instead of jacking them up to 11 all at once, presumably to prevent excruciating pain. Nice man, that Dr. Tenenbaum.

Conversely, my pelvis felt like separated itself overnight on Monday.

It turns out it felt like it did, because it did. I can blame relaxin, a hormone released to make ligaments loosey goosey for the baby's luge run. I guess my body orthodontist doesn't use the same technique as Dr. Tenenbaum. Maybe it's because I don't have two years to work with, perhaps not even two weeks or two days. It's up to baby. At any rate, now I walk like I can't, because my legs certainly can't be very well attached to their sockets.

Thus, for the purpose of this post, please picture a wobbly-legged woman smuggling a men's NBA over-inflated but regulation-sized basketball under her coat. That's me. Now picture me yesterday, fresh off the 5 train waddling my way through Grand Central for my now weekly visit with my obstetrician. As I passed Papyrus, the stationery store, I noticed a youngish woman pushing one end of a valet cart stacked with recyclable boxes. She had a helper in tow who was carrying a garbage bag. At some point during my waddle, I heard in a very bitchy Valley Girl tone, "Excuse me!"

In New York, we're unofficially trained to ignore people, so natrually, I ignored this.

"ExCUSE me!"

Certainly this person couldn't be talking to me.

And a third time, "EXCUSE ME!"

At this point, I assumed I dropped something, so I turned to see not someone running up to me with my wallet--or my uterus--but the woman with the cart and the helper, right behind me, totally up my ass. Really? Grand Central is such a tiny place that my path is the only one to wheel your shit around in? Is it not called GRAND Central for a reason? Her "excuse me" was essentially a "Beep beep!" for me to get out of the way, and not a friendly "Beep beep" which wouldn't have mattered anyhow. My fuse is short these days. I responded in kind at the top of my lungs with, "I'M EIGHT AND A HALF MONTHS PREGNANT, AND YOU'RE A BITCH!" As she passed, she had no comment, obviously.

That was yesterday. This morning, I had another adventure. I walked onto the 6 train and stood in front of two occupied seats in the corner. A teenage girl and a man in his 20's. Both saw me, my belly, and quickly closed their eyes to pretend they were sleeping. I felt like tapping the one chick on the shoulder to ask her how her fake nap was going, but I was more concerned with monitoring the rest of the train as we approached the next stop to see if any seats would open up. One did, and I approached it, as fast as I could waddle.

I wasn't fast enough.

A tall 30-something hipster dude with Peter Jackson hair and a stupid trendy raincoat started his descent into the seat. Before his fat ass could touch the plastic, I tapped him with, "May I sit down?"

"Umm...But I was going to sit down," he said incredulously, snarkily, totally prepared for a confrontation.

I paused.

"Are you also 8.5 months pregnant?"

"OH! So sorry, I didn't notice. Yeah, sorry about that. And I get really mad when people don't give up their seats and yeah, sorry..." his voice trailing off as he stood in front of his lady friend whom he was hoping to sit next to.

"Thanks," I quipped, as I whipped out my copy of Pregnancy & Newborn. Needless to say, the small talk between him and his lady friend was awkward at best. On their way off the train to catch the express, he tapped my knee with another apology, "I'm really sorry about that. Have a great day."

"Yeah. Thanks." I wanted to then say to his lady friend, "He's a keeper!" in the most sarcastic tone I could muster (my specialty). Fighting a petite woman who politely asks for a subway seat you know you're only using for two more stops? Then to give it up only when I tell you I'm with child? I've got to provide a doctor's note? A-hole.

I hope his trench got caught in the subway doors trying to squeeze his ass onto the 4Train and his body was violently dragged down the platform ending with a big splatter of brain matter and Peter Jackson hair, but it probably didn't.

I guess I'll have to wait for him to develop an enlarged prostate.


melissa smith said...

wow- people really are a-holes. Aside from the jackasses and separated pelvis, hope you're feeling good ~

love, jenn said...

Beep! Beep!

teri said...

do these people think you're just fat and therefore, don't deserve a seat. Jesus!

hope you either 1) feel better or 2) have the baby and feel way better after.

Just Dave said...

Sigh. You are, after all, in New York, where self-absorption is something of an art form. All the same, it's too bad rude assholes like these don't half their jaws drop off.

I remember giving up my seat to a pregnant lady on the London subway. She was so astonished that it took here a minute to sit down and another minute to thank me.

A Friend of Greenberg said...

I think you've got to put this in perspective. Greenberg wouldn't give you his seat if you were 11 and a half months pregnant, you had no legs, and were dragging a suitcase with you on the way to the hospital to deliver. In that respect, NY'ers seem really nice by comparison. :)

Abbi Crutchfield said...

"Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Sorry to bother you, but I would like a seat. I'm not doing this for no basketball team, I'm not doing this for no baseball team. I just want to sit down. Any room you can spare would be appreciated."

Primordial Dork said...

AAAAhh...once a lady ran up my 3rd Trimester pregnant ass like that in Wal-Mart and then ended up...exactly right in front of me anyway in the return line. I toddled really close to her ear and said, "Was it worth it?"

She looked around at me and I laughed and said, "You saved two minutes, go-getter!"

She said nothing to me but the rest of the queue the tips of her ears were IMPOSSBLY RED.