What Was I Thinking?

I wrote this in college. Don't laugh, it was a long time ago ...

Sometimes I hate myself. I can be so obnoxious. I get so angry at people who make noise. I come to the library for peace and quiet, not to be subjected to one man’s violent attacks. I studied his appearance to search for a sign, a clue as to why he was torturing me.

He sat down at my table, exactly across from me. Of course, I should mention that there were two tables to the right of me that remained annoyingly empty. He had messy brown hair, combed over to hide his creeping baldness. Today he wore a blue sweater, with dark coffee stains, and a red flannel shirt underneath. He had on brown glasses with speckles of red in the frame. His ears were enormous, probably to hold up his heavy glasses. He had cuts on his throat from shaving too quickly.

I noticed his hands were clean and well manicured, probably because he spends his days reading, never enjoying the feel of dirt underneath his fingernails. Today, there is a biology book open in front of him. His pale, delicate fingers turn the pages and then he stops and stares. Something on that page must have sparked an interest. Then, he licks his lips ever so slightly to moisten the cold, dry skin. I didn’t notice a wedding ring and I soon found out why.

Just like the thunder rolls in during a terrible storm, I heard a noise that would have scared Jesus in Heaven. I didn’t have time to brace myself for the impact so the actual incident scarred me for days. From out of the mouth of this small, feeble man came the most disgusting thing I have ever heard. His nostrils flared open and it seemed as though he would cough up his intestines. I had to force myself to remain in my chair for the force was so great I thought I would topple over. This man’s lunch must have been lodged in his throat and was now trying to get out.

I got so angry I gathered my things and left the library, never able to forget that day, and always apprehensive about who sat next to me. I’m sure I was punished when, the next day, I climbed on the shuttle bus to go home after a tense day in school. The only seat left was next to an immense woman who took up three quarters of the seat. Standing up would have meant injury because the bus driver is a maniac from driving hell.

So, I squeezed my behind on a space that my arm wouldn’t be satisfied leaning on and the rest of the students piled aboard. They packed the bus until full capacity and wouldn’t you know, the last person he let on had a huge backpack. Fate was not kind to me that day. The person turned around to talk to a friend and whacked me in the head with the lethal backpack. Good friends they were, I’m sure, because the entire ride to the parking lot I was smooshed between a fat lady and a hard place. The moral of the story being, stand if you have to and avoid everyone.