There is an older woman I see on the train often, looks like Selma Diamond (if only she spoke like Selma Diamond). She wears gold and fiddles with her phone. This morning, one stop away from where we both get off, a middle-aged woman with long hair sat next to her. I missed what started it all but they began to argue. Selma got up, “There, now you can have all the space you need.”
“Good, I do need it.”
“I bet you do, bitch.”
“I’m not the bitch, you’re the bitch. Old bitch.”
“Look at you,” said Selma, “Aren’t you too old to be acting like a bitch?”
“I’m a good bitch. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll beat you up.”
This is when the middle-aged woman with long hair stood up and shook her finger at Selma. But Selma had her head turned, earphones in her ears, and the middle-aged woman sat down. They kept at it some but it wasn’t going to get worse, just two cranky ladies on a Monday morning cursing at each other.
I was left with one thought as I got off the train. When does “I’ll beat you up” stop being part of your arsenal in an argument?