Every weekday, I
ride the commuter bus. We stand in line,
which is the absolute shits. I
absolutely hate lines, but not for the waiting.
I always feel like we’re lambs headed to the slaughter.
Anyway, there’s one
particular lady who waits in line with her husband. He doesn't get on the bus with her; he just
waits in line and watches her get on the bus. This is my
conflict.
I consider myself a feminist,
but I have no problem with chivalry (probably because as a woman I’m always on
the receiving end of chivalrous acts).
What bugs me about
the woman and her husband is that it looks like he’s seeing her onto the bus
like he’s her dad/handler. She must be in her 50’s
– plenty old enough to see herself on the bus, but it’s like she isn’t capable
of getting herself onto the bus.
I told my husband
about it and he asked me one question:
How is that any different from me walking you out every morning?
I guess I should
share that I leave my house at about 4:30 a.m. every morning. It’s dark (and kinda creepy). My husband walks me out to the car in our
driveway and carries my bag. Can I walk by
myself? Sure? Can I carry my own bag?
Damn straight. Is it a lovely thing that
makes me feel cherished? Yes,
definitely.
Now that I've worked this all through in my writing, I’m guessing the lady on the bus feels
the same way.
Still, there's no way in hell I'd let Ray stand with me, in line, waiting with me to get on the bus.
