Beating Up Little Old Ladies on the Bus

I have lovely stories about visiting Florence with David (still glowing from seeing him) and visiting Cinqueterre with BDan and Andrea, but I don't want to crush them all together. Today, I shall post Florence, so you guys will have to wait for later in the week to see pictures of waves and rocks.

But, first, a serious topic . . .

My bus has gotten out of control. I made the mistake of taking it at 6:30 the other evening, and it was so crowded I was pushed against the door the entire time. Then, the bus driver took off from one stop without closing the doors! I was clinging to my handrail, my heavy laptop case pulling me back, while we shouted "Chuide la porta!" and "Dietro!" Finally he closed it. A similarly harrowing experience happened when I made the mistake of taking the last bus home on a weekend. As I walked calmly towards the bus, an entire wave of high schoolers surged towards it. Flannery and I shamelessly outran them and jumped into free seats. The bus was so full that, even though I was in the seat right next to the door, it took me so long to get out that the bus driver started closing the door. I yelled "Aspetta!" and the (loud and strangely well-groomed) Italian boys yelled "Aprire!" and I was able to get out of the bus.

However, the greatest danger in taking the bus is not the crowdedness. It's not even the speed with which drivers takes the curvy, hilly, narrow streets or the fact that they are often engaged in distracting activities such as talking to people or (I'm not even kidding) listening to an iPod. No, the most dangerous factor is . . .

Women over 65.

I don't want to be at all ageist, but I swear, these ladies are vicious. They come onto the bus, and shoulder their way past everyone with ease. In the hands of these women, a purse is a weapon, and their purses are big enough to make one wonder what on earth they are carrying. Flannery had gotten hit on the backs of the knees with one of these bags. This morning, one hit my arm and said "permesso!" with the biggest glare after I made the horrible mistake of not realizing she was behind me. Fortunately, the same people take my bus every day, so we are starting recognize some of the more vicious ladies.

For those of you who suspect exaggeration on my part, one girl brought up the subject of older Italian ladies after getting pushed in the market, and a couple of my program directors (one of them Italian) said that Italian women get vicious. It's as if, once they can take the title of matriarch, they claim it and make it theirs. They figure that society owes them one.

Anyway, I generally attempt to avoid stereotyping, so I will say that the majority of Italians of any age or sex that I have met have been delightful, but some of these ladies . . .