Someone Spat On Me

I was at the Eaton’s Centre yesterday with a friend. We were coming up on the escalator from Laura Secord because she needed ice cream. We figured it would be easier to find a place street level to flake out and b!tch about the ridiculous people we work with when I felt something wet on my knee.

It was unmistakable.

I had officially been expectorated upon.

It was all I can do not to freak out but my friend was fighting the urge to gag, so I fought the urge to spaz out and I did what anyone would have done- swear like a drunken sailor.

The spittle had soaked through my dress pants. I fumed as my friend passed me a tissue to wipe some of it off.

Mother f#cker!

My friend’s back was to me because she, the epitome of decorum, would have been appalled if she actually threw up. For her sake, I tried to make light of it as much as possible.

Between expletives I said it could have been worse- it could have landed on my face or her $5 cup of ice cream.

Then I joked about how one of our germaphobe friends would have reacted. She would have thrown her hands into the air, started screaming, and passed out. Thankfully St. Mike’s is just down the street.

We sat down and I adjusted the pant leg so the wetness would not be touching my skin. She was commenting on the clothes that people were wearing and I sussed out the people passing by and wondered if they could have been the @sshole who spat on me.

If I were overly superstitious, I would say that this was retribution for breaking a chain letter I had received earlier that day.

Or the fates were getting me back for all the times I contemplated doing the same to a random stranger. (When did Karma become the thought police- must have missed that memo.)

I told my boyfriend and he was mortified. He asked if I washed off my knee….

Duh- it was all I could do not to pour bleach on it.

I can’t do anything about what happened other than rant about it- and gross everyone out by sharing the story.

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~ by angryegg on April 14, 2010.