You’re surfing through your favorite social media site and you witness this post so awkward it almost ruin your day. Maybe its a post about insane ranting, those simple things that can be ignored yet shared instead. Those name dropping (or worst, tagging) of rude posts you can almost feel them fighting within the realms of the internet. Or those pictures that you wish you can buy an eye bleach to wash it off your memory.
I have nothing against these people. Sure, if they have additional brain cells they would not post and share this “too personal” things. Might as well create a blog right? But I never delete them. No matter how insanely stupid and ridiculous they seem, they’re my friends.
But alas! Karma is a female dog. Life has given me an opportunity to experience an awkward moment that I can finally share with you. Of course this is very unfortunate on my part.
If you are familiar with McKinley Hill in BGC, you know it can only be accessed through 2 exit points. And I work in the very middle part of this area.
However, the management knows this and allow free internal shuttle service. At first it was a big bus that could fit over 70 people, then they downgraded to a mini van/shuttle that could hold maybe 25 people sardines (sitting and standing).
It was one Wednesday afternoon that I finished my shift, eager to go home to my dogs and puppies. I was the last girl that fit in the shuttle. And by fit, I mean stand in front of the shuttle door, holding on to the pole for my dear life.
There is a huge lady (I said huge, not fat. I want you to remember that!) who came before me and so she is standing on my left half hugging me while we hold to the same pole on my right.
I do not have a problem with the usual invasion of personal space that we have trouble breathing normally, I am used to this, unfortunately. My problem is with the lady.
Her right arm goes over my back to hold to the pole. Then something starts poking me.
Her right boob.
Her right boob pokes my poor left arm like a friend she had never seen a long ago.
Every move of the shuttle, poke. Every turn, poke. Every stop poke.
It’s like my arm is being boob-raped.
Now don’t get me wrong. I love boobs. I see a pair of them every morning and they are just majestic.
But hers was not majestic.
Hers was aggressive.
Poke! Poke! Poke!
And you know what? She doesn’t even care!
I’m a girl and I know even when my babies are being stared at. I feel the stare.
But this lady (again, huge, not fat), her right boob, the very physical form, is in contact with my bony left arm and she doesn’t react at all!
I am a very sensitive person in terms of my surroundings. And I can tell you that my surrounding is very aware.
They were all staring at me. Eyes on this little festivity.
I could not do anything but to stare blankly ahead with my poker face. Screaming in my head, “This too shall pass. Have faith!”
What felt like eternity soon come to its end. The doors opened and I did not wait for the shuttle to come to its full stop. I jump right out still feeling those stares at me with now smiling faces.
I felt dirty that day.
Never thought I’d cringe to the thought of a single boob.