Tuesday, June 23, 2009
My Husband is Black
She'd told me a story before about moving seats away from a man on the 22 and him calling her a racist.
So this day...
A middle aged black man gets on the bus and sits right next to me. I was in the back row and the bus was fairly empty.
There were two Eastern European girls, cute, sitting to my right in the back row.
The middle seat would have been a more appropriate choice.
But he sat next to me and I was like, "Okay. Okay, let's see what this is all about."
He crosses his legs away from me and begins to grind.
His hands in his pockets, no eye contact, just staring off into the distance, he's humping.
It looks like a dog trying to itch its ass on carpet.
A few stops later I get up and have to pretty much crawl over him.
I say, "ExCUSE me," in a way that means, "You've got to be fucking kidding me with this humping business."
I was just like - alright dude, I've had enough - and if you call me a racist I'm going to tell you that my husband is black.