“X” is for “xenophobia”

I took the bus from Gloucester up to Cheltenham yesterday, for my weekly afternoon of volunteering; I was knitting away at the baby blanket I’m working on whilst riding.  On the bus with me were are trio of girls (about my age), one sitting up front with her toddler in a stroller, the other two sitting across the aisle from me.  In the back of the bus was another girl.  (There were plenty of other people on the bus, but these are the main characters.) The girl in the back of the bus started humming along - then singing along, but quietly - with her music.  One of the trio of girls (wearing a see-through shirt with a tatty bra on underneath, massive, cheap gold jewelry, and lime-green false fingernails that extended an inch beyond the ends of her fingers) turned and gave the humming girl a look that would have peeled paint.  The humming girl stopped humming.  But this wasn’t enough, no, no.  The nail-girl whipped out her cell phone and started playing crappy-quality rap tunes on it without any headphones. 

Now, I know I should have kept my mouth shut.  But I didn’t.  I did the requisite enquiring glances at the girl - who was oblivious or, more likely, just didn’t care.  So, after a few minutes of this, I leaned over and said, politely, “I’m sorry, but I don’t suppose you could turn down your music, could you?  Not everyone necessarily wants to listen to the same music you do.”

Nail-girl and her friends started bawling me out.  I mean SERIOUSLY so.  Curse words were yelled at me, the non-toddler friend got out her cell phone and added it to the din, with both of them shouting across at me about whether I liked *this* track or *that* track; one of them said, and then the two of them repeated several times “to each other”, gleefully, about how I was probably knitting a dog blanket for myself, for my basket… ::rolls eyes::

So, after putting up with this abuse for about five minutes, I finally leaned back over and said, “Look, I just asked you politely to turn down your music.  I don’t deserve this kind of abuse.” Then they heard my accent, and xenophobic insults, things like “you should go back to where you came from” were added to the mix.  Huzzah.

I stuck it out - kept knitting, stayed on the bus until only one stop before I would normally have gotten off - but I was pretty shaken up when I got off.  One of the other passengers got off as well, caught up to me, and actually apologized for the girls’ behaviour.  He had spent time in America, and wanted to go back, and would have spoken up on the bus, but “it wasn’t worth it.” I told him it was okay, I was the unexpectedness of the attack that was the real problem, because by and large everyone in England is unfailingly kind and polite and courteous.

So that was my fun bus experience.  I hope it’s not repeated next week.