das boot

Yesterday as I was riding the SRO N-Judah train to work, I stood where I normally do in the elbow of the two trains where I get motion sickness the least. As I was leaning against the elbow wall, a guy sitting down next to me, laughing out loud while reading his book, “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,” accidentally kicked my right foot/boot. Probably feeling that he had just kicked something not quite human where something human normally should be, he looked down at my right foot/boot and upon realizing he had just kicked a lame girl’s bad leg, shot me a horrifying look and profusely started to apologize. Granted, between the thick foam padding and the NFL approved plastic guards surrounding my toes, foot, heel and shin, I could barely feel a thomp, let alone a kick, I smiled but nodded with a “just don’t do it again” look. He offered his seat to me, but I turned that down, seeing it was silly to be sitting for just two more stops.

More than a few friends I’ve told this to, said I could have gotten a dinner or drinks out of this guy. Maybe next time. I’ve got to work on that gimp game angle a bit more.