Addressing the "Alive"

I'm going to veer off the debt track today and address the alive part of my little story, because the following incident really has me shaken up. Not literally shaking, although at one point I was, but more in the *wow did that really happen* sense.

I almost got into a fight on the subway. On my way to Grand Central and upstate NY, I hopped on the subway to go to 2 stops to catch the metro north. I get on the subway and as soon as the doors close at 59th, this girl starts cursing, f-this and f-you and f-yourself to her friends and basically to anyone that could hear/would listen. I start feeling bad for her because I just thought, what a beautiful girl and what a hard life she must have. Seriously, face of an angel, with two guy friends who were much more fashionable than she was feminine. She was basically ready to pick a fight with anyone that looked at her the wrong way and I gave her the stink eye.

She immediately says, "what are you looking at, b****", I said nothing and looked the other way. A few minutes later I feel something pressing on my foot and it is this girl stepping on my foot (she's sitting, I'm standing). I say "excuse you" in the most stern teacher-voice that i know. she says "excuse you" and unleashes a barage of curses and insults my way. I stand there, not moving, pissing her off more (why am i so stubborn? to her, I'm just another "bit-ch" in a burberry (this is a debt blog) scarf and leopard print shoes, while in my mind I'm someone just like her, from a tough neighborhood, with neighborhood developed cajones that should have been cut off as soon as I went to university.

Anyway. I move away. She and her friends move to get off at 42nd, my stop, I think great, I'll just let them go and follow from a distance. Then I feel her stepping on my foot again, I start to say something and she whips around with "don't touch me! why are you hitting me?" I, flabbergasted, just move to get to the exit, as we are stopped, she is cursing something horrible, with the overall message of: you better just move on, curse curse curse.

And of course I feel the need to say something to her. (why god why) so I say "you'll never get anywhere in life talking like that" like that will jar her angry bitter not even 15 year old self into a reality check. it won't. although one of her friends chimes in with, "you know, she's right." yeah, I am.

Then her friends have to hold her back from hitting me or doing any of the numerous things that she was yelling she would do "get back here so I can spit in your face" "I'm going to lay your white ass out" angry angry angry.

I'm scared (and amazed/bewildered that i said anything), make my way up the stairs after almost taking a dead end up the platform, and rack my brains for the closest police location, because even though she was barely 5'6", I'm sure she could have taken all her rage from whatever went wrong in her life out on me in under 60 seconds.

The police were exactly where I wanted them, as she struggled to get past people (excuse me! excuse me! she knows manners...or at least how to move people) on the stairway after her friends (thank god!) held her back for long enough for me to get away to the safety of eternally
stationed cops. and she went down the corridor to the shuttle with her friends. kicking and screaming. rage.

I proceed to have a massive anxiety attack and almost throw up once getting to the civilized world of grand central station and the metro north.

This may be what pushes me out of NY, to the suburbs, away from the madness.

Does anyone remember the story of the actress on the lower east side who said to a bunch of teenagers "what are you going to do, shoot me?" and then got shot? I need to repeat that story to myself daily and keep my mouth shut! and eyes averted!