|>>|| No. 25001
So earlier this afternoon I intimidated some women at a train station.
Now, that sounds bad, reprehensible even, but fifteen minutes earlier they had loudly mocked a disabled person getting onto the train, and a mixture of wanting to control resent overreactions I've had to certain events and not wanting to cause embarrassment to the disabled individual made me not say anything. However, as they sat there, giggling and laughing and talking about utterly vapid bullshit my shame and rage built and built and by the time we got off at the station I was fuming, disgusted as much with myself as with them by this point. As we went through the ticket gates I slunk behind the crowd and waited for them, so what I did next was with full intent, I confess.
Beyond the gates I almost drifted in amongst them as one exclaimed "I don't even know what to do now we're here", and I let out a fairly incoherent stream of frustrated curses. From what I recall (these things always happen "so fast", don't they?) I told them "you horrible obnoxious cunts, why don't you save this town the bother and fuck off home, you cruel bitches". I'm fairly certain I threw a twat into the mix, but heaven knows where.
They looked, understandably alarmed, and they fell quiet, and as I went away to collect myself I realised I hadn't mentioned the train incident at all and they, in their uncaring way, had possibly already forgotten it. On some level, however, I was perfectly glad to leave them confused and anxious about the whole situation, not giving them a chance to defend their utterly indefensible actions.
I feel unpleasant about the whole thing, but also that I was right, which is difficult to reconcile, and probably why I'm writing this. Am I mental bastard, looking for an excuse to berate strangers, or a sweary DI Frost, doing the filthy, honest, work no one else cares to?