I was passing through a subway on my way to the bus station this evening, and a group of teenagers passed me - and as they did so, one of the boys remarked rather cruelly to his companions about my personal appearance.
I took hold of the boy and slammed him up against the nearest wall, and in the shocked silence left by his friends explained to him in no uncertain terms that pointing such things out to strangers was not only unkind and unreasonable but dangerous - especially in a subway, as I or any other target could easily take enough offence to kick seven shades of shit out of him there and then. I gave him a detailed and highly unflattering description of his own appearance as I saw him, and when he objected that I still appeared more stupid than he, I knocked him to the floor and pointed out how stupid he looked down there, before stomping off to the comforting sounds of a young man trying not to cry in front of his friends.
Except I didn´t, of course - this all happened in my head on the bus afterwards. What I actually did is what I always do (because it happens more often than one would think, even given my level of unattractiveness): walked on by, saying nothing, listening to their unkind laughter behind me, echoing endlessly through the tunnels. Then I spent ten minutes torturing myself mentally over not having stood up for myself, and then I launched into my happy violent vengeance fantasy.
I used to have fantasies about saying just the right thing in the right tone, without being unreasonable, and somehow getting through to them - seeing the comprehension spread over their face like dawn breaking; the guilt and apology in their eyes. This daydream has dwindled in frequency due to the unavoidably naïve qualities it displays which make it so hard to even pretend.
Can you imagine what would really have happened if I had decided to make a stand? - Of any kind? Had I escaped the confrontation without being beaten up or mugged, I probably would have received enough of a mouthful to make my ears ring for an hour, probably in terms I would have to ask a sailor to explain.
A delinquent strand of the bus fantasy involved one of his female companions stepping up to tell me off for hassling him, and my being able - through articulate reasoning, woman to woman - to bring her onto my side, to the point where she would berate him with me, while the rest of the group nodded supportively.
I don´t know why I indulge in such pointless reverie. Some random vein of hitherto undiscovered optimism lurking in the depths, maybe.
In any case, I do find myself wondering how long remains to me before I enact the fantasy - properly tell off some rude little brat and get my head kicked in for it. It´s surely only a matter of time - I get close sometimes, I wasn´t too far removed from it today.
And the worst thing about it is, that even if it went the way my daydream did, which it more than likely would not, at best I´d become an anecdote for college - "that crazy lady that attacked me in the subway for nothing". More likely still I´d end up arrested for it, and find myself trying to explain why twatting an abusive teenager is suddenly okay, just because I´ve had enough!
But the point is I have had enough of it - and having thought it all through, and knowing all the horrible ways it could have turned out, I still almost wish I could be back in that cold tunnel hours ago, reeling inside from unexpected abuse, stepping obstructively in front of a stranger to make my goddamned stand.
