A few weeks ago I had a nasty morning with one silver lining. I've recently recovered from plastic surgery after breaking my nose from falling down the stairs (so yeah, a nose job but it is what it is). Today is my last follow up appointment, but it can be no later than 8:30 in the morning, cause I've got to get to my nannying job by 11.
So, cue to train platform at 7 in the morning. Cast of characters includes me, homeless dude chilling on the grate, older woman, and a few other commuters. It's fucking freezing and I'm barely awake. Doesn't help that cold air really hurts my nose. I'm bundled up with my favorite flip mittens that my grandma knit me. They are bulky though, too bulky to send a text with, so when my mom texts and asks if I got on the train yet I yank em off and shove them in my back pocket.
I'm absorbed in replying to my mom and a few other peoples texts when I feel tugging on my butt. I whip around to see the older woman walking away putting on my mittens. Just, what the hell? I walk up to her. "Um, excuse me? Those are my mittens?" She looks at me. "No, these are mine, you must be wrong." I didn't even know what to say. This has never happened before, it's cold, my nose hurts, and I'm confused. So I do what any person would do- I start tearing up. "Please, those are mine. My grandmother made them. My name is written on the label inside." Older lady continues with her nasty glare, telling me I'm wrong, these are her gloves, and that I should be ashamed of trying to take things from an older lady who can't warm her extremities as easily. People are starting to stare.
Up walks homeless dude, behind my shoulder. "Look lady, I literally just saw you take those out of the girls pocket. I'm sure other people did too. Now, you can just give her back her gloves, stick your hands in your pockets like everyone else and suck it up, or else I'm sure this young lady has a phone she wouldn't mind letting me borrow to call the police on. I'm cold too. I don't steal from other people." (He had on a hoodie and jeans, nothing else.)
Older lady turns an alarming beet color, throws my mittens at me and huffs off. I profusely thank the homeless guy, but he just keeps telling me not to worry, no big deal. The train pulls up, and before he can say no, I press the mittens into his hands and hop on. My grandma can always make me a new pair.