Yet another entry in the Batista commuter saga, NYC subway edition.
So, I get on the crowded 4 train this morning to get to work. As usual, all the ass clowns are standing by the door, even though the interior of the car still has plenty of wiggle room. And per usual, too, no one wants to move out of the way as we all try to board.
So I say "excuse me" to get by this one asshole, but he doesn't move. I say it again, and still nothing. Hey, I just gave this dude my "two warnings, fair game" rule, which means that now I get to shoulder your dumb ass aside with much prejudice. And when I shoulder someone, let's just say it's not pleasant. I've been told it feels like the grill of a Mac truck hitting you dead on.
So this guy decides to get offended and mouth off at me. Right there in front of everyone. I let him spew off a few choice syllables, the whole time not saying anything but giving him my patented STARE OF DOOM! Yes, I was wearing my shades, but the STARE burns through the opaque windows baring the rage of my soul to those fools stupid enough to test me:
This is how I normally look when I ride the subway, by the way. I call it my "subway armor" for reasons to be made clear shortly. I was wearing these exact same shades today, and giving this exact same look. Except, minus the mock turtleneck and leather bomber naturally (the pic was taken back in February). This look is my "fuck off or DIE" look. Most people get the point and know to leave me well the hell alone.
This guy mouthing off this morning did, too. After a few seconds. See, I find that the best way to deal with potential fight scenarios is to simply stare at the person and never say one word. It gets them piping mad at first, sure, but when you keep spouting bullshit and the other person is simply staring you down the entire time, silent as death, pretty soon you start to feel a tad foolish. Maybe even frightened.
I have that effect. If the look isn't enough, my size backs me up. Most people don't want to take on what I bring to a fight. They talk a lot of shit, but when it comes time to put up or shut up, they eventually back down and . . . yup, shut the hell up.
Same with this fool. It was quite funny, actually. He started off all hot and belligerent. Then, as it became obvious that I was plotting to murder him behind those shades without a single word spoken, his sentences trailed off to gibberish, and then nothing. Everyone else in the train was smirking or outright laughing at this imbecile.
He got off at the next station. Wise decision on his part.
Here's the thing: I don't ever start fights. Some people ride the subway just looking for an excuse to get into trouble. I know this. So in situations like the one I just described above, I usually stare at the offender until he wizens up and decides to take his particular brand of bullshit somewhere else. But in the off chance that's not enough, I calmly tell the person to "do something" about it.
What I mean when I say this is: Hey, if you feel so strongly about your convictions, ignorant peon, then put your grievances to action. I'm standing right here; take me on!
The purpose of this is to get the person to throw the first punch. I'll never initiate it myself, because this is how people end up taking a nice overnight trip to the Riker's Island holding facility. Whoever makes the first move in an altercation is ALWAYS the bad guy. But the minute the person throws that first punch, I'm free to open up a can of whup-ass on them. And -- oh trust me, no one wants that!
Once again, proof why it takes a certain type to survive in this zoo we call the Big Apple. I'm only this way because I was born here and had to learn to adapt to survive to adulthood. Especially as a male trying to simply do the right thing and stay out of trouble. My outward appearance is such as to discourage most would-be offenders from even thinking they can take me on. It's a strategy that works far better than you'd think.
So, that was my morning. How was your commute?