Tonight's journey has been palgued by assholes. For once, I decided against a working journey and all I wanted to do was read the paper. For the first hour, I had approximately 1/3 of my seat, thanks to the extra-large, pistachio cruncher who smelled vaguely of cat box.
Then, I got a tall guy opposite me and a space hog next to me. I pity the tall guy because his legs don't fit; I don't mind stuffing my legs under my seat so that he can sit. But the space hog annoyed me. So, I made a point of lowering my armrest and spreading my stuff to take up exactly my quarter of the table. She was then replaced by a sighing grumpy old biddy.
There's a perpetually cheery Russian trolley guy who often services this line when he can get a cart on the train. He looks like the stock giant KGB guy from cold war comedies, and is a profuse sweater. I never buy off the trolley, but the old biddy irately chewed him out for running over her foot, which shouldn't have been in the aisle. He didn't hear her spidery biddy admonition, but I did. I rewarded her rudeness by ordering a cup of tea so he had to come back and run it over again. Small victories.
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