This morning, a fairly crowded subway pulled up to the platform where I stood waiting. I found myself, without thinking, pulling the knot in my scarf to the side. Unbuttoning my coat. Putting my hands on my hips as I thrust my belly out as far in front of me as possible. Then, I stepped onto the car and conjured up a sad, forlorn look in the direction of any seated passenger who would catch my eye.
The way I see it, between maternity clothes and chocolate croissant cravings, I’m putting thousands of dollars a year into the local economy. To say nothing of the number of grooming products it takes to look reasonably presentable these days. The least I deserve is a damn seat on the subway for nine months out of my life.
Not getting any response, I took matters into my own hands. I approached my least favorite type of subway rider – the one who believes her purse won’t be as happy in her lap as it is in a seat of its own. In my opinion, she’s even worse than the rider who spreads his legs and takes up two seats as a demonstration that his penis is too large for him to sit comfortably any other way. The former should know better. The latter is just an idiot.
“Could you move your bag so I could sit down?” I asked the woman. She averted her eyes.
“I’m PREGNANT and I’d really like to sit down,” I said a little louder, drawing the attention of nearby passengers who were more than happy to give her the evil eye–less in defense of the poor standing pregnant lady and more in defense of their own seats.
She took her bag reluctantly into her lap and slid over two inches, hemming and hawing the whole time. I wriggled in next to her, smiled sweetly, and thanked her in a tone that was just a little too big to sound entirely sincere.
I can only assure you it was a happier ending than last week’s commutation fun, when I twisted my ankle on a midtown platform and fell to the ground in pain, while men in business suits stepped over me. New York, New York, it’s a hell of a town.
63 shards of brilliance… read them below or add one
When I was, like, 14 months pregnant and the size of a minivan, I took the subway and found myself standing sqaurely in front of two healthy young twenty-somethings, comfortably seated. I stink-eyed them for an age, while they chatted ignorantly about their fucking dance class. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the female of the duo whispered loudly into her friend’s ear ‘OMIGOD I THINK THAT LADY’S PREGNANT.’They attempt to scope my condition surreptitiously. Sort of like standing in front of Everest and trying to figure out whether it is, in fact, a mountain, but whatever.“AM I SUPPOSED TO OFFER HER MY SEAT?”“Yes,” I said sweetly, “You are. But as I’ve been standing for ten minutes already, I can wait the extra one minute for my stop. Thank you.”And one minute later, I swanned off (fine. hippoed off), giving the stink-eye to everyone and wishing them all death.One more day in paradise.
What’s wrong with people nowaday?!! I mean the least they can do is to be merry and charitable around this time of years.I can’t believe pple just walked past you after you fell. Unfreakinbelievable!!
No shit! Yowza. Next time scream “MY WATER BROKE AND IT’S GETTING ALL OVER YOUR BRUNO MAGLI SHOES YOU SNIVELLING RAT BASTARDS!” Just for fun.
surprisingly enough — on Metro North (NYC ‘burbs train for those not familiar), the MEN will get up and offer you a seat. Some old shriveled up woman got pissed at me for sitting in the middle seat of an otherwise crowded train today and proceeded to elbow me in my stomach (7 months) multiple times. Bitch. Should have sat next to a man.
Strike a point for L.A. – that would never happen here. Someone would stop and help you up for sure.As long as you had big boobs, of course. Otherwise they would expect you to read their script.
Good for you for letting her have it. “Accidently” stepping on a shoe might get the point across, too. I have to say that in Boston, people have been generally good to the pregnant mothers I’ve noticed. I’ve also noticed people making an effort to hold doors for mothers with strollers. What did mothers do before handicapped accomodations? If it works for a wheelchair, it’s can often be used for a stroller.And even the gruff and brusque Russians always gave up a seat for me on the Moscow Metro. I wasn’t pregnant, but I had my son with me. It’s apparently a big enough deal to be written in the travel books.
Well, you won’t get that attitude in LA on the subway because you will have to drive your own car. Consider it a trade off. But, there’s still road rage so maybe, not such a good trade.
I don’t know what line you were riding, but there could not be a worse line to ride pregnant than the 6. I could not manage to get to the upper east side to my weekly shrink visit without becoming insanely pissed at many selfish assholes. But… on my way to work in Bed-Stuy on the M or the L, I would never have to wait a moment for a seat. The men would offer me water or food. Everyone had advice for my pregnancy/delivery/newborn. It takes the Latino/Polish/West Indian village to raise this baby, I guess. With my second, if I had to go uptown, I just took cabs.One part- possibly the only part- I enjoyed about being pregnant was being disinhibited. I wish you the same blessing.
sad how noone cares about anyone else these days. really sad…
I have so worked that belly myself. My best trick for forcing someone to move their purse or leg, though, has been to turn around and lower my ass slowly into the seat. Generally by the time I get there, the item has moved. Or, for two people spilling over into a seat between them, I’ll sit on the edge of it and ease my way back into the seat, parting them as I go, with a beatific smile on my face.
Just think Karma.
They stepped over you? Grrrrrr…. That makes me mad.Thank goodness for karmic retribution!
I can totally relate! This happened to me when I was preggo riding the el in Chicago all the time. http://selfmademom.net/2006/10/18/chivalry-is-dead-on-public-transportation/