Overheard on the Tube: The Bridesmaid-zilla

"I can't believe how casual the bride's being about everything. When I asked her how she wanted the bridemaids' hairstyles to be, she just said 'let them choose: I just want them to be happy.' Can you believe that? It's totally unacceptable."

-A lady bitching about how her bride-to-be friend is planning her wedding.

Humans are Humans Wherever you Go

"Would you like a bread roll miss?"

"No, thank you." I smiled politely at the air steward proffering me the bread with a pair of tongs.

"It's nice and warm fresh from the oven." He jabbed the roll at me.

"Er... no, thanks, I'm good." My smile faultered.

"Here." He leaned over.

"No really, I'm-"

The air steward scowled and dumped the rejected bread roll on my tray and stalked onward with the meal trolley.

That was during the journey back from Kota Kinabalu to England. I suppose it was only fitting my trip ended with an awkward encounter.

The Line Between Assertiveness and Rudeness

I bought some dried fruit from a market stall, today. There were two guys running it- one who seemed perfectly amiable who I was chatting to, and another who was quite mouthy in a way it was clear he thought was funny and edgy. As soon as I decided on what to buy, the mouthy guy brusquely took over from his colleague.

"So how much would you like?"

"Just a small handful, please."

The guy behind the stall grabbed a massive fistful of dried mango and stuffed it into the paper bag, to my dismay, and followed with a second fistful. He dumped the full-to-bursting bag onto the scales.

"That'll be eight pounds."

I gave an easy laugh to cover my annoyance. "I said a small handful! I don't think I can eat eight pounds worth. Can you make it about three pounds, please?"

Mouthy guy smirked and removed a small amount of fruit from the bag.

"Five pounds."

"Er- no, I said three pounds."

Mouthy guy grinned again. "Thirty pounds, did you say?"

"Three," I said firmly, trying to control my escaping patience. All I bloody wanted was a bloody bit of fruit. "If I can't eat eight pounds worth of dried fruit, I certainly can't eat thirty pounds worth of it."

"Okay okay, three." He finally took out enough of the bag to make a sensible amount of fruit, and I handed over a five pound note.

"Oh look," Mouthy guy said to his colleague, "She's given us a pound tip each!" The other guy gave a half-hearted 'ha-ha'.

"Sorry," I said, feeling my smile turn a little sharp. "I'm not that generous."

Mouthy guy finally stopped with the badly-constructed banter and handed over the change, and the other trader and I wished each other a nice day. Well, to seem less harsh, I wished a nice day back in both of their general directions. But really I only made eye contact with the less mouthy of the two (hah, take that. It's the small victories...)

Was I rude, by the end? I'm not sure. Not even sure I care. Hell, a few years ago I would have just accepted a gargantuan eight pound bag of fruit in order to avoid confrontation- but that's not me any more. I'm finding more and more that I'm able to take less and less crap. That can only be a good thing, right? I mean I've always wanted to be the kind of person who will treat everyone with equal respect and kindness, but there has to be a line between being kind and being a doormat.

Just last week I was in a bakery and this guy was completely blocking the aisle looking at something, bent over in such a sharp L-shape that his head touched one side of the aisle and his arse the other. My first polite 'excuse me' caused another gentleman to shift out of the way (and he wasn't really in the way to begin with, bless him). But the L-shape guy: nothing. My second polite 'excuse me' elicited no response from him, either.

My final attempt came out as a very acerbic "Excuse me". And by golly he moved- slowly and defiantly, but move he did- but not before giving me the most poisonous look I have ever seen directed at me. I mean it, too: I'm not in the habit of making enemies, but I'm pretty sure I made one, that day.

"Thank you!" I cheerfully trilled in a sugary-sweet voice, and almost danced past.

Again, did I cross the line of assertiveness and go over to the dark side of rudeness? Probably. Do I feel bad about it? No. Does a small part of me quite like this newfound power? Worryingly, yes.

Mean Ice Cream Man

I went out for my first run since autumn last year today because the weather is finally catching on that it's spring. It was challenging- not because I'm out of practice (I found other ways to keep fit during the long winter)- but because there were so many other people out enjoying the sorely missed sun. My self confidence has fallen a bit, hiding under all the winter layers, so the real challenge was getting out there in all my Lycra glory. I needn't have worried though, because as soon as I took my first step, I felt awesome- I hadn't realised how much I'd missed running.

The biggest challenge was not chasing after the ice cream van like a rabid greyhound after a hare.

It was a reasonably hot and sunny day to be out running, and I was quite red in the face and obviously baking a little bit. Just as I came to the tough uphill part of my run, an ice cream van drove past- and started to drive really slowly just ahead of me. At first I thought he was looking for a place to pull up, and it dawned on me that he didn't even have the jaunty ice cream van music playing.

Then I realised he was trolling me.

I saw his stupid grinning face in his wing mirror and considered scowling back at him, but decided to act nonchalant. Even so, the horrible bastard continued to trail just ahead of me all the way up the hill, until we both came to the top and he sped off, laughing.

I hope he gets lemon sorbet in his eyes.

~Fin~