I was in a fairly good mood this morning, when I got up. I stayed up late finishing Stranger in a Strange Land, but I wasn't overly tired, and it was actually *nice* outside - nice by our standards, anyway. Warm-ish and just a little drippy, and not too windy or cold. Nice. Sort of refreshing.
When I made it to the skytrain (I had to run to catch it because a Transit cop stopped me and checked my fare - I had to stop and dig for it... they're everywhere! It's a little eerie...), and sat down in a window seat, because I intended to take pictures for my photography project. I don't usually sit in the back/front-facing seats - I try to sit in the single-seaters because I dislike people hitting me with their elbows, which the aisle people almost inevitably do.
Anyway, I took my window seat, by myself, and put my bag on the seat next to me, because I wanted the room to take pictures out the window - there were no other window seats on the train. Two stops later, a woman who put me in mind of a smaller Nadiamum got on the train, stood in the door for about thirty seconds, holding up the train while she gazed distastefully around at all the free aisle seats. It took me a moment to realize that she was glaring distastefully because almost all the people in the other window seats were Asian, and the other two were great big guys. After staring around for about two minutes, she comes over, apparently with careful intention, and sits next to me, after glaring at me to move my bag.
I think: Oh, joy, but figure it's okay, she'll get off in a couple of stops, I hope, and I can do my photos then. After the second stop, I realize she's not going to move, sigh in resignation, and put away my camera. I'm a bit annoyed by now, because in addition to the dirty looks this woman is giving me she's elbowing me in the side with the grand and obvious gestures she's making trying to draw attention to the book she's pulling out of her tacky, oversized handbag, the title of which is "God and You: Staying on the Path Despite Temptation". I swear; that's what it said. Though I can't figure what would bother to tempt this woman...
Anyway. When I got up, she bumped me - looked really pissed at having to get up to let me past, too, 'cause god forbid she be *courteous*. I barely got off the train because she took so long to let me past.
I finally got off the train at Brentwood, and I was in a sort of bad mood, being slightly nauseous from the bus ride before the skytrain - sitting beside a guy who smelled like he hadn't recently bathed, and had tried to cover it up with nasty cologne (I *hate* cologne. I really do.) and behind a guy whose mousse I could have *drowned* in - and sat down at the stop to wait for the bus. At some point I reached into my pocket for my bus pass - and do you know what I found? A tract about how "sinners led astray by false gods" are going to hell. I just started laughing, and didn't stop 'til I got to school. It was one of the really bad ones, too, with the ketchupy blood and the cartoon devils. Hilarious.
But she stuck a tract in my *pocket* - first of all, I don't know how she did it without my noticing; I'm usually pretty good about things like that, but I guess I was just too annoyed by her stupidity previously. Secondly, I'm not exactly sure what qualified me as a "sinner led astray by false gods" - I wasn't wearing a pentagram or anything. The closest thing I was wearing to a symbol of "false gods" was my Celtic elements pendant, which is, admittedly, Pagan symbology, but kind of obscure. Maybe she read my aura or something. I don't know. At least the time the crazy guy in Haney Place went after me, I had purple hair. Geez.
Crazy woman. Yeesh. I think, overall, I prefer the bike-shorts-and-sandwich guy at Broadway. At least he's *polite*. o.O