Gypsy Tears

A tangent story: miercoles, 3 de septiembre

Stepping off the train at the Alonso Martinez metro stop,  Mom notices that two Gypsies stand from their seats on a bench as we pass them.  They walk behind us.  We step onto the escalator: Dad leads; I am directly behind him; Mom stands one step below me.  Both Gypsy women agressively take the step between my Mom and I.  Realizing that they intend to pickpocket me, my Mom quickly moves aside and hurriedly tells me, "Sally, move out of the way.  I don't trust them."  I'm not sure what she just said, but I am certain that my Mom is now smooshing me by sharing this one step.  I turn around curiously.  My Mom repeats, "Sally, watch out.  Do not trust them."  To this I respond, "Fine, go up in front of Dad though: I have no room."  Aware now of the situation, I turn a second time to look at the Gypsies - and to my demise.  When I face forward, I hear a recognizable sound immediately followed by wetness on the back of my calves and knees.  

No folks, these were no Gypsy tears!  She actually SPAT on me, all over my legs!  But it doesn't end there...  

Reaching the top of the escalator, I hollered to my Dad to stop and let the women get ahead of us while my Mom (bless her) gave me a wet nap for my legs.  When we reached our connection, the Gypsies had already found a new bench from which to prowl again.  One woman put her hands to the side of her face, wiggling them and sticking her tongue out like a witch.  As the train doors closed, Dad gave his 2 cents with his middle finger - to which the other Gypsy emphatically reciprocated.

I give a special dedication to Kalli, Dave, and Niki, "Give me your tears, Gypsy!"