Fashion Blogs

Chapter 1: Episode 2

Barley a few days ago, I complained about a client’s time management. Guess what, I have become a victim. A victim of violently silencing the eight alarms I set to wake me up this morning. I am going to miss my train. I just know it. I knew it, 7 am is way too early to wake up on a Saturday morning. I make a mad dash for the bathroom while disrobing on the way. 3 minutes. Record shower time. I ring for the taxi while slapping on some lotion and clothes. At least I had the sense to prepare my outfit the night before.

I am dressed and waiting. The taxi is not here. I am panicking. I need to be on the train in less than 15mins. I am going to miss my train. I just know it. I drag my poorly packed suitcase out of the room and into the waiting elevator. There is no one inside, thank God. I use the mirror to do last checks for smudged lipstick or eyeliner. All good to go. The taxi is still not here. My agitation is increasing by the second. I think to call for another. I fish around my bag for my phone. Before I could redial, the taxi pulls up to the kerb. I confirm my name and destination. I wait for the driver to hit the gas and leave skid marks of the road. Instead, he places one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to caress his huge grey beard. He drives slowly. I wanted to scream at him.

I think he is part of the conspiracy. The driver I mean. The conspiracy to make sure I miss my train. Now he is going the wrong way! He is driving in a circle. I am struggling to remain calm.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” I hissed through my teeth. “I am going to miss my train.”
“Look, I am going at the normal speed limit. You should have called the the taxi earlier.”
He replied unsympathetically. He glared at me through the rear-view mirror. I can see his deep uncaring eyes. I decided that any reply would be futile.

I sat back and tried to count to 10. No, forget 10, maybe 100. I check my watch. 5 minutes left. We are pulling up the the station. I dug out the fare. I am tempted to tell the driver how greedy and nasty he is, but I haven’t the time. I ran briskly into the station. The queue at the ticket machine is massive. I looked up at the information board. The train is leaving in 2 minutes. I leaned forward to plead with the two women in front of me to let me go first. The older woman shook her head and said,
“My daughter’s train is in 15 minutes. I am sorry” She gave me a false apologetic smile.
“Please, please, my train leaves in 2 minutes. I won’t take a minute.”
She turned around and ignored me. I wanted to punch her. They went up next. After them, I purchased my ticket. I looked at the board. My train has departed.

At that very moment, a huge ball of unbridled rage rose in my throat. I struggled to keep it down. I started to tremble. My breathing quickened. I tried to remain calm by breathing deeper. It isn’t working. I can feel tears threatening. I wanted to cry, stamp my feet and shout on top of my lungs. Oh my days. What is wrong with me?

I picked up my phone and called my sister. Sanity returned.

I am now at the platform waiting for the next train. So many people are waiting. I don’t think we will fit on the train.

Every seat was taken. I sat in a reserved seat and prayed that the passenger would not get on the train. Nope. The conspiracy continues. The woman came to claim her seat. I had to stand up. All though the train journey. We were like sardines in a can. Nobody could move. I chose the wrong day to wear heels.

I just cannot not believe how unkind those women were. Unkind people upset me. A lot. I believe that when we are in the position to help others, we should do so without hesitation. I believe that what is sown is what is reaped, some call it karma. It is true. It is a law. Now I feel sorry for those women.

We have arrived at my destination. I have had the whole journey to think about my disconcerting reaction. Who was to blame? Me, the taxi driver or the women in the ticket queue? I chalk it up to PMS.

Yours agitated,
Carita