The other night I transferred to the J on my way home. I got a seat at the end of the car. That's good.
A man walked on at Van Ness. He stopped at the post to my immediate left then proceeded to unwrap a piece of junk mail to reveal a custard-related dessert in a plastic container. He was also occasionally drinking from a kiddie "juice" box with a straw. He was jiggling a lot, and not just because of the movement of the carriage. Swaying, and jiggling.
He pulled a spoon from somewhere and dug into his dessert. A little piece of it flipped out of its container, and fell on to my bag. He saw it. I saw it. I didn't move.
On the inside, I jumped from my seat, wiped the dessert on the dude's pants and shouted "Keep your fucking dessert to yourself you fucking weirdo! My bag is ruined! Asshole!" This made me happy, but i'm certain my inner explosion made me look like a smiling weirdo with dessert on her bag on public transport.
He reached into a pocket of his combat pants and pulled out another kiddie drink, all the while juggling the rest of his precarious dessert as well as the other finished kiddie drink. This made me feel tense.
I just left the dessert there on my bag until after The Jiggler had left the J. I went to flick it off, and it stuck to my finger. YUCK! Strange man's dessert germs! I wiped it on the man's post. YUCK! Was there still some on my finger? I couldn't look. Must remain calm in the face of other sardines!
I couldn't wipe my finger on myself, or YUCK! There'd be custard-related dessert from The Jiggler on me! Asshole! (May offend?
I washed my hands when I got home.