I Hate People When They're Not Polite

There's nothing worse than facing a multitude of niggling annoyances on the Monday before a long weekend. I spent the day contending with some technical difficulties at work, and when I left I had visions of al fresco margaritas. I stopped at the bank to get a money order for my rent because the new checks I ordered hadn't arrived, and then hopped on the Green Line.

Somehow, I managed to get a seat on the crowded train. After a bunch of people got off at Park Street, a tall, grey-haired man moved to sit down next to me. He stepped on my toes on his way into the seat, and apologized quickly once he was seated. Then he flipped open his dungeons and dragons fantasy novel and started bouncing his leg.

Bounce bounce bounce bounce. I did my best to shift my weight to my left ass cheek to avoid contact with his bouncing leg, but I could still feel his leg twitching. Bounce bounce bounce bounce. Never had the ride to North Station felt so long. I was practically in the lap of the bored woman who was playing solitaire on her iPod to get away from his bouncing limb. Still could feel it. Bounce bounce bounce bounce.

It was all I could do not to slam my fist down on his upper thigh to make him stop. Finally, I got to North Station and bolted off the train toward my tequila-laced libations.

After sitting in the sun and sipping my drink, my mood was much improved. Until I came home and found my new order of checks waiting for me. So I didn't need to spend $5 for my money order.

Is it Thursday yet?