Things that terrify me – when perhaps they shouldn’t
When a stranger leans over to me and says “Won’t you keep an eye on my bag/seat/table please…I just need to have a quick smoke/go to the loo/feed my meter” an irrational anger, induced by an icy fear floods my system. Is it just me?
Don’t misunderstand – I have no problem with random acts of kindness. I’m also of reasonably strong limb and can happily fend off marauding teens or hobbling tannies. I have no qualms about that. But I, like most, have a constantly shifting field of personal space that I awkwardly monitor, adjust, compensate for and guard. When a hefty gentleman’s elbow betrays imperial ambitions on my armrest on an aeroplane, for example, I am perfectly able to respond with a well placed elbow jab of my own. But it is an ongoing inner conflict that I don’t particularly enjoy, exacerbated by a (mostly) masked social awkwardness. So being asked by a stranger to exercise any sort of authority over their personal space is, frankly, embarrassing and terrifying. Or terrifying because it is potentially embarrassing.
The scary part is not the watching, it’s the fact that I might have to disappoint someone. There I am, casually minding my own business in an airport lounge, in one of those scarce comfy chairs. Guy next to me stands, leans in and asks The Question. I want to grab him by the wattle (indeed, throttle him by the wattle, but this is no time for annoying witticisms, I’m trying to share…) and yell “No you half-brained arrogant twat why should I guard your territory while you go and flounce around, indulging your own selfish whims while my day gets ruined by you.” Except I don’t. I give a neighbourly smile and say “Sure”.
For however long they’re away i sit there in writhful torment. Not for me the relaxing browse through the paper while sipping an icy glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. No comfort in my triple chocolate muffin. I sit there, anxious and sweaty palmed. As people enter the room I will them away with every fibre in my body. Until one of them, oblivious to my increasing panic and agony approaches, confident, relieved and hopeful.
And then the potential for disappointing others begins.
Now, again, let me be clear. I have disappointed people all my life. Girlfriends, pets, bosses, family members, friends, Mr Delivery and telesales people. I could go on, and so could they. But all of that is nothing with having to disappoint someone who, upon entering a busy airport terminal, spies a vacant chair and heaves themself with relief over to it. It’s at that moment, just before they sink into the cushiony folds of the chair that I have to say “Sorry, someone is sitting there.” Their reactions are all the same. Disbelief, a flit of anger and then….Disappointment. Off they shuffle to find a barbed broom handle to perch on while they wait for their connecting flight to Upington. Double whammy.
Because I was left in charge. My fault. And so I have to carry the burden with me for the rest of the day, while Mr/Ms Irresponsible-and-Selfish returns from their flight of fancy and takes their seat back, often without so much of a nod to acknowledge my pain.
Just needed to share that with you. Now I need to go and do something – please watch my blog while I’m away and make sure no-one breaks it.
