Attacked on the Metro

The commuter dance was taking longer than normal since the accident but it didn’t bother me. My schedule was fluid and I had a newspaper to bide my time, and a seat for comfort. Then it happened…

A woman in a very short-sleeved t-shirt began pointing at the metro map next to me. The clomp of hair under her arm was waving to me. I ignored The Hair as best as a man who is revolted by such things could but it was like one of those pictures LiLu shows on Thursdays – drawn in indelible mental ink. This woman, and The Hair, grabbed the overhead bar – a thatch of gnarled string on display for all the world.

The Hair started winking at me. Then The Hair got pissed because I kept trying to ignore her. Then it started to grow like the incredible hulk of hair because she was pissed. Before I knew it, there were natty locks round my imagination choking the life from me.

Fighting back was futile – the ropes were thick, strong, and crippling.  I tried to run, but the car was too crowded to find safe distance.  This was worse than the time I couldn’t breathe; the hair had hold of my mind.

Finally my stop neared, and I darted from my seat.  I became that obnoxious commuter who attempts to bend laws of physics just to be one step closer to the door.  I really just needed to be one more step away from The Hair.

I don’t know if it followed me, but I sprinted the escalator just in case.

Advertisements

12 Responses to Attacked on the Metro

  1. That is just wrong.
    Wrong.
    (ps- was it braided? Beads or bows or anything?)
    I totally just gagged.

    It was just there, had there been ornamentation I probably would have had to run screaming like a little girl.

  2. Lisa says:

    I don’t have terribly strong feelings about women with armpit hair – although it isn’t so common here, so it is kind of shocking – but I definitely understand that one thing that just suffocates you to the point where you need to flee.

    I don’t have terribly strong feelings about it either, showing it, on the other hand, is different. And for the record, I don’t like seeing it on men either.

  3. Titania says:

    I feel your pain and horror… Have a question though, was she using deodorant? I hope so, otherwise the attack would eventually be on the nose as well, and I don’t know how can one survive that

    I couldn’t see clumps of chalk if that’s what you’re asking.

  4. Maxie says:

    Oh GROSS. And I thought my metro ride was bad on Sunday.

    If my reading of your account, and that of others, is correct, then I’m sure it would have been better if I felt the way you felt.

  5. LiLu says:

    I’m going to grow mine out for you.

    See you August 7th…

    Well if B can grow a mowhawk, I don’t think he can complain about that.

  6. Red says:

    :O

    Horror!

    It really was rather frightening.

  7. Cyndy says:

    Ugh…alternate title: When Armpit Hair Takes on a Life of its Own.

    I will certainly give you credit when I change the title for my memoirs.

  8. Elle Dubya says:

    i know this phrase is past it’s prime…but i think i just threw up a little in my mouth.

    Past its prime or not I am pretty sure that this was exactly the situation for which it was created.

  9. f.B says:

    Some people might think socially enlightened men shouldn’t care about such “trivial” details; that it’s only ever about what’s inside…

    Well, that’s the problem. It’s hard to think about what’s inside when distracted by low-hanging armpit hair growing outward by the inch. Also, it’s awfully hard to show what you’ve got on the inside and wear your heart on your sleeve when your armpit hair is overtaking your sleeve.

    I think that social enlightenment is about not caring what other people do in the privacy of their own lives. This privacy wasn’t though.

  10. Julia :) says:

    EWWW

    Word.

  11. brookem says:

    oh that’s just wrong. chick needs to cover up. and get a razor.

    Cover – certainly; the razor is a personal choice.

  12. kathleen says:

    enough to make you want to hire a car service. on credit.

    I love using a car service, but using it everyday is a bit ostentatious, no?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: