ADVENTURES IN LASHING OUT

It was raining this morning on my way to work. No, actually, it wasn't merely raining it was pissing cats and dogs! It was pouring something biblical. It was really coming down hard. I had one of those rare moments this morning when I wished I had a car; it was that bad. I decided to walk to school because biking would just result in the muddy, brown butt streak of shame. All you bike commuters out there, nod your head in empathy. You know of what I speak.

Right. So I decided to walk to school, dressed accordingly: I packed my pants in my waterproof bag and donned shorts, sandals, and my rain coat. That way, my legs could get as wet as they liked and I could just dry them off and change when I got to work. Only, this didn’t work so well because my walk was almost 30 minutes and water was coming down in heavy sheets, torrents. For the last ten minutes I was kind of shuffling along because my shorts were wet and wicking water upwards, threatening to soak my knickers. I was teetering on the edge of insanity, I tell you! And then.

And then, when I arrived at school who should I find waiting at the east entrance? Surely not the tall, gallant security guard who holds the door open for me when I have my bike. No, instead it’s the pathetic, middle-aged ex-marine who insists on scrutinizing everyone’s identification badge for five minutes, turning it over in his hands, sniffing it like some kind of animal, biting it with his teeth in order to test its authenticity, whatever. Never mind that he sees the same people every day, he can be a genuine, militant anal retentive loser. He asked, “Can I see your badge, ma’am?” Imagine this drenched bird searching through her bag. I pulled it out, flashed it at him and made my way to the bathroom so I could change out of my cold, wet clothes. “Excuse me ma’am, I didn’t see your badge. I only saw your lanyard.” Imagine his voice thin, whiny and annoying. “It’s my job to check.” I said, “You call me ‘ma’am’ one more time motherfucker, and I swear to god I’ll cut you.”

No. Not really. But I did tell him to stop calling me ma'am.