So Typical!

"Where the heck is the bus?"  I knew that if it didn't arrive soon I'd be late for the interview.  Pacing anxiously, I scanned the road for the tardy conveyance. I was less than comfortable in the skirt I'd donned to make a good first impression, but for the sake of the possibility of making enough money to feed myself, I'd decided that, for once, femininity might be the way to go.  The interview was to take place in less than an hour and I'd already been waiting for the bus for more than fifteen minutes.  "Come on!  Hurry up!" I couldn't afford to be  late! "Finally!" There it was, rounding the corner. "Thank Heaven," I muttered under my breath as the back doors opened.  My heart sank.  It was packed beyond capacity, people jammed against each other.  There was really no room for me, but I had no choice. If I didn't join the crush, I would be surely be late.  I mounted the steps, squeezed in between an elderly woman and man, and was immediately swarmed. Bodies, some obviously unwashed, pressed against me on all sides.  I tried to remain calm. Canadians need their 'space'; apparently the Greeks didn't. It was very uncomfortable being this close to strangers, and I couldn't wait to disembark. 

There was nothing to hold on to at the back of the bus, but the crowd in front of and behind gave me all the support I needed.  It was virtually impossible to fall. I made eye-contact with the old woman; we nodded at each other.  The teenagers standing close by were having a great time joking, yelling and cursing at each other. The noise of their conversation and laughter hurt the ears.  "Get me off of this bus!" The rank odour of garlic and un-deodorized armpits closed in on me and made me want to gag. I struggled against the urge, breathing through my mouth.

Still so far to go.  "What the?"  A hand....a hand!  Someone was lifting my skirt.  A hand caressed my bottom and held it gently. The blood rushed to my face.  The shock glued me to the spot for several seconds. Gasping in horror, and fighting the crowd, I turned slowly to face my offender.  He was a large, young man. The smile on his face was enraging.  He stared boldly into my eyes. The animal! I could hardly breath, I was so livid!  Raising my arm with difficulty because of the scarcity of space, with all of my might, I slapped the man across the face.  The sound of the impact was apparently quite loud because all conversation stopped....all eyes turned....and regarded me accusingly. The young man who had violated me, shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in the air, an expression of innocence on his face. "Ti? Giati?" (What? Why?) "'Re Vlaka," (Stupid/Idiot) I countered, not yet having acquired the necessary vocabulary to show the depth of my great displeasure.  The passengers, however, showed their disapproval and glared at me.  So unjust, so typical.  Blame the foreigner. Embarrassed beyond...beyond, I forced my way through the passengers, to the door, stepped down onto the stair that would signal the bus driver that someone wanted to get off, exited as quickly as I could, and knowing I could not possibly make it in time for the interview, that it somehow was just not meant to be, stormed, fuming all the way, the ten long blocks back to my apartment.