I slipped and broke my foot and had to hop around on crutches for a while. Because of that, I had to take the subway and the bus to and from work instead of riding my bike, taking much more time.

This story takes place on a long and bad day. I am tired, hungry, in pain, and I just wanted to get home. I got on board the subway and found, to my relief, an empty seat, the only one around. I hopped my way there, but the woman sitting next to it looked at me and placed her purse on the seat. She turned to look out of the window.

Me: “Excuse me.”

Woman: *No response.*

Me: “Excuse me! May I sit there, where your purse is? Please.”

Woman: *Intense staring out of the window.*

Me: *Repeats all in English.*

Woman: *Gazes into the distance.*

I looked around for a different seat, not wanting to start a fight, when an old lady sitting across from the rude woman took the purse, tossed it into the rude woman’s lap, and said:

Old Woman: “There you go. Have a seat!”

Me: “Um…” *Sits down.*

Woman: “Hey! Why did you do that?”

Old Woman: “Because you didn’t.”

Woman: “That does NOT give you the right to touch my things!”

Old Woman: “Call the police then. Let them know an old crone viciously assaulted you by moving your purse half a meter to let an injured man sit, and that the vile hag infringed on the right of your royal highness to occupy two seats during rush hour.”

Woman: “You… shouldn’t have…”

Old Woman: *Sarcastically.* “Oh, spare me, not the guillotine.”

Woman: “Um… but… you…” *To me.* “You shouldn’t have sat down. That was my seat!”

Me: *No response.*

Woman: “HELLO?”

Me: *Gazes into the distance.*

The woman continued yammering a while, to my indifference, and got off three stops later. The old woman snickered and said to no-one in particular:

Old Woman: “I don’t know that woman, but we often happen to take this subway. She always gets off on the previous one. I wonder what she’s going to do here. Oh look, it’s raining. And that station has no roof, oh dear oh dear. I don’t think she had an umbrella in that little purse.”

We continued talking all the way home, I thanked her many times. I still don’t know why the woman with the purse was so incredibly rude.

CONTENT WARNING: Mention of domestic abuse.

Last year, I was taking a flight to Florida to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. I’ve got mild social anxiety, and I hate getting sick, especially around the holidays, so I’m slightly annoyed and nervous when the flight attendant directs the last person to board, a woman slightly older than me, to the seat next to me. I get even more nervous about getting sick when I hear that she seems to be sniffing really hard, like she really needs to put effort into breathing. Eventually, she catches me making nervous glances in her direction and smiles.

Woman: “Don’t worry, I’m not sick.”

I start thinking that maybe she just has allergies or asthma. Even so, I’m still paranoid about sickness, and can’t get the thought out of my head… until about ten minutes into the flight, when I glance over and see that she’s looking at her phone and bawling her eyes out. I don’t say anything because it’s none of my business, and again, social anxiety, but I keep looking over at her crying and agonizing over what the hell could’ve hurt her so badly. 

The best theory that I could think of was that she had just learned that someone she loved had passed away.

Around halfway through the flight, we have to interact for some reason, probably the attendant delivering a drink, and I finally take the opportunity to say something:

Me: “Hey, uh… I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Woman: “Thank you, uh… I’m… I’m leaving an abusive man.”

I’m too shocked to leave it at that, so she ends up going through a bunch of things the man did to hurt her. Among other delightful tidbits, she mentions how her best friend was killed in an armed robbery, and her gem of a boyfriend went on to say it was her fault during an argument. But the thing that boils my blood the most is when she tells me what made the dam burst: just a couple hours ago, still p***ed at getting rightfully dumped, this shining example of humanity had sent her a text saying, and I quote: “I hope your plane crashes.”

Me: “I… I’m so sorry. That’s f***ed up.”

Woman: “I know. But it’s okay. I’m done with him. I’ve got plenty of friends and family who love me, and they’ve all been texting me and telling me that they’re proud of me and vowing to be there for me no matter what. That’s why I’ve been crying. These are happy tears. I’m just so relieved that it’s over.”

Me: “That’s good… That’s great, actually. I’ve… I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, but I’ve been in a toxic friendship before. I know how hard it is to break off from someone when you think you need them.”

We go back and forth about our relationships for the rest of the flight, and find that what our respective abusers put us through matches up surprisingly well, though I see one pretty big difference…

Me: “At least you told him it was over. I never had the guts for that. My guy and I just drifted apart after high school, and eventually I realized what an a**hole he was and just stopped responding to his messages. I pretty much ghosted him. The fact that you had the guts to dump that b*****d after everything he did makes you way stronger than me.”

We’re both a lot happier and chipper by the end of the flight. About half an hour after landing, I was waiting for my bags in baggage claim, having met up with my parents by this point, when I saw the woman walk in.

Me: “Hey! Are you doing better?”

Woman: “Oh, hi! Yes, thank you. I’m all cried out now.”

We ended up talking again while waiting for our bags. I recommended a song that I felt would lift her spirits, and she shook hands with my parents and me before we parted ways.

A little extra tidbit that I found a bit amusing: During the whole conversation in baggage claim, I noticed my mom very conspicuously turned away from us. After I explained the whole context, she admitted that she saw me approach this random woman and thought I was trying to flirt with her, and got curious because that was so unlike me… until she heard the words “I’m all cried out now” and immediately broke off from her eavesdropping to avoid intruding on something serious.

We keep bees as a hobby in a small home apiary, and we sell some of their honey from the door to offset the cost of keeping them. The hives are in our garden, and if people are interested, I offer to take them round to see the bees, from a respectful distance, of course. People are very curious but also visibly apprehensive when confronted with a quarter of a million bees, so I’m used to answering all sorts of questions about them. 

One day, a chap, aged in his fifties, who was watching the bees flying around, decided to enlighten me about something.

Man: “I’ll bet you never get women standing here. You know, women are genetically predisposed to throw themselves to the ground when things fly over them.”

Me: “Well, most people do tend to react to bees as they know they could get stung…”

Man: “No, no, anything! Bees, birds, if anything flies over a woman, she’ll dive to the ground! Airplanes! It’s genetics! Have you never noticed?”

Me: *After re-engaging my ability to speak.* “Um, no, I can’t say that I have.”

I should mention that, from the visitors we’ve had over the years, it is generally women who seem more at ease around the bees.

This weekend, I was on my way home Sunday afternoon with my family. We live in an area that’s somewhere between rural and suburban; lots of forest, widely spaced properties on the main road, and the side roads.

In one of the (slightly) more populated areas, we had to slow down because there was a fender-bender in the other lane, heading back toward the city. Both cars were still there, waiting for tow trucks or emergency vehicles. Behind them, there was a lot of liquid and debris in the road, but my lane, leading away from the city, was clear.

Up ahead, I could see a guy standing in the street, stopping oncoming traffic, presumably so they wouldn’t either drive through the debris or rear-end one of the crashed vehicles. I also had to slow way down because two women were walking away from the accident on my side of the road.

Then, all of a sudden, three cars pull into my lane and start driving straight at me! I slammed on my brakes, pulled over as far as I could (there aren’t very wide shoulders on the road here), and blared my horn because what the actual h***?

THEN, the two women walking on the side of the road run up and start yelling at me to stop because it turns out HE had been WAVING ONCOMING TRAFFIC into my lane, even though no one was stopping traffic on the other side of the accident.

Basically, this guy with three teeth and half as many brain cells just decided to start waving cars into oncoming traffic, and somehow he and these two other women thought I was in the wrong.

The drivers in the oncoming cars looked as panicked as I felt to find themselves almost in a head-on collision with me.

Dude, it’s nice to stop to help at an accident, BUT IT’S NOT HELPING IF YOU CAUSE MORE ACCIDENTS!

My friend and I are chilling on the Atlantic City boardwalk, watching the waves roll in, talking about nothing important.

Friend: “Man, we really should visit the right coast more often.”

Me: *Laughs.* “Haha, yeah, and definitely not the wrong coast.”

Friend: “No, I mean the right coast. Instead of the left coast.”

Me: “You mean East and West coast?”

Friend: “No, I mean the right coast, the one we’re looking at right now. It’s the right coast.”

Me: “Well, it’s the East Coast, as East is East regardless of where you’re looking. Left and right… well, aren’t.”

Friend: “Are you stupid? Look at the map! This is the coast that’s on the right!”

Me: “I mean, sure, but… look. I am standing here. What side is the ocean to me?”

Friend: “Right, duh!”

Me: “Okay.”

I do a half-spin.

Me: “How about now?”

Friend: “It’s still the right coast!”

Me: “But it’s to the left of me.”

Friend: “You moved, the coast didn’t! On the map it’s—”

Me: “—Okay, bring out your map app.”

He does so, and he zooms out on it until we can see the entire USA.

Me: “Where are we?”

Friend: “Right here, on the right coa—”

I flip the map upside down.

Friend: “…”

Me: “The map moved this time.”

Friend: “Well… that… that’s stupid too. The map doesn’t flip like that in real life, because if it did, Mexico would be North of us!”

Me: “So you’re saying the cardinal directions themselves can change based on the direction of the map, but your sense of left and right is absolute?”

Friend: “Yeah!”

Me: “D***! Someone better warn the Mexicans, then. It’s about to start snowing in Acapulco!”