Is Klutziness a Disability? If So, I Should Totally Get to Ride For Free.

I’m either the clumsiest person in the world, or the MTA is out to kill me.

And have I mentioned recently that I hate the N6 bus? No? Let me reiterate.  I hate the N6 bus.

I left work yesterday evening a little later than usual since MR and Zombiegirl weren’t going to be home (she was trying out for the Red Bulls elite training academy. Go Red Bulls!) and I wasn’t in any rush to spend time with the dogs. It seemed that the rest of Manhattan had the same idea and all wanted to go to Hempstead with me. The F train was a sardine can- I stood up until 169th street, which isn’t great since I get off at the next stop- 179th St.  At the bus stop in Jamaica, I let two packed buses go by hoping to get a seat (uh, right) on the next bus. After waiting for about 20 more minutes, I resigned myself to stand and got on the next (also crowded) bus.

It’s okay though! I have Enjoy Suduko to keep me happy and occupied while being stepped on and prodded in the ass by the backpack on the kid behind me. I start my travel home hanging on to the pole above swinging helplessly into the personal space of the stern lady sitting primly in front of me. She keeps giving me dirty looks.  No worries! I avoid her eyes and continue to play Suduko with one hand s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g my thumb into the upper left hand corner…

After a half hour of this hell, the bus driver decides to make it even worse by slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting the asshole that cut us off. Of course, I’m not paying attention (looking for that BUG- the only square with three numerals in it while all the others have two) and someone slams into me on the left, dislodging my non-Suduko hand from the pole. Somehow (and I swear this has happened before in the seconds before my hapless traumas) I make a complete turn and end up on the floor on my ass. I land on shopping bags and feet and I think another body, so I didn’t hurt my lower region. (I’m unusually padded down there anyways.) What seemed like a million hands helped me up, grabbing me under my arms and pulling at my hands and forearms until I’m back in an upright position and shaking like a leaf. Okay, so big deal, I fell over. I do that all the time so I’m not surprised. Shaken, but not surprised.

What I am surprised at is the amount of people asking me if I was alright and NOT GETTING THE HELL UP AND GIVING ME A SEAT. Here I am, a fallen woman (hah!) shaking and biting her lip not to cry and the fat pig I was standing next to had used my injury as a decoy to jump into the seat of the prissy, prim lady and she had the nerve to ask me if I’m okay? Bitch- get the hell up and let me sit for a few moments and collect myself! Really? At least three other people SITTING asked me if I was alright. I flew four feet down the aisle, pushing people out of the way and ending up on my ass and you can’t even get up and let me sit and cry a little in peace?

There is no hope for humanity.

I managed to keep my phone in my hand, and my pocketbook on my arm (I hope I slapped the fat pig in the head as I was going down…)  but I also managed to wrench my shoulder and sprain my thumb, probably from being so abruptly and forcibly detached from the pole I was holding.  My back and neck of course are now out of whack so a visit to Dr. Evelyn, my chiropractor, is urgent.  I finally get a seat, finish the Suduko game I’m working on (using the hints since I’m too upset to think) and stew the rest of the ride home.

Walking home from the bus stop I realize my nightmare is not over.

I… don’t have my house key. I’m locked out of the house.  MR and Z-girl are not due home for another hour and a half.

Of course.  This is the way my life runs.

Instead of hanging out in the dark on my stoop or in the dark in my backyard, I trekked it over to the library since the mosquitoes in the backyard were finding my thumbs especially delicious.  I found a few books on my Goodreads list and SURPRISE! I actually was carrying my library card.  I found a nice overstuffed chair and curled up and waited for MR, my knight in shining armor, to pick me up.

Today?  It hurts to type.  I’m stiff and sore.  And I came up with a great idea for a padded, bubble-wrap suit.  I can patent it and make millions and ride around in a limo.

And cut off all those damn N6 buses.

Update:  I just discovered a bruise on my thigh that looks remarkably like a shoeprint.  FML.

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