Third time's a charm

There I was, sitting quietly on the 136 bus, minding my own business, reading a travel magazine and trying to decompress from a crazy day at work. The bus paused at the second stop on the route (I got on at the first stop) and a businessman with white curly hair boards and rudely tells me to move.

Despite the plethora of empty seats, I get up and move a few seats away. I don't say anything because I'm so shocked at this bullying manuever from a 50- or 60-something businessman. The man sits in my now-warm seat, takes out a stack of papers and begins to look them over as if he's sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee.

Mind you, this area is priority seating (for handicapped, elderly and pregnant passengers) and it fills up quickly during rush hour with mainly able-bodied folks like me...and him.

A week later, the same thing happens. Same man, same seat, same demand.

Never one to back down from a fight, I formulated a carefully-worded, polite, friendly but firm rebuttal for the next time he tried that. But the next time never came.

Until today.

The curly white head was there at the bus stop and I quickly pulled out my magazine. I buried my head in the pages as the bus doors opened and tried to remember the first few words of my prepared speech.

I saw the black dress shoes and gray trousers stop in front of my seat. I held my breath and braced myself for the verbal assault. Would I have the nerve to strike back and not look like a complete bitch to a busload of passengers?

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. And then he continued on to an unoccupied seat a few feet away.

I tried not to smile.