Two American Women Reported Me to the Police for Farting on Tram (Wasn’t Me Though)
05-15-2019, 06:21 PM
I was coming back from the gym, carrying a protein shake in my shaker and wearing a Trump ‘16 hat. No one cares about the hat aside from the occasional Westerner who nevertheless doesn’t do anything except say “nice hat” in a passive aggressive way. I got on the tram and stood, as I often do, as my route has a lot of old people and mothers with young kids.
There was a drunk guy on the train, swaying and generally doing what long-term Slavic drunks do. He would get up and stand, and then two minutes later sit down. I think he repeated this four or five times.
Around that fourth or fifth time, he stood up, came closer to me but not too close, and out comes a very audible, machine-gun fart.
I instinctively laugh and keep laughing, as do about half a dozen others, all locals. In addition to making various obscenities about serving politicians and Romanians/Latvians (I think), he farts again.
After the second fart, a blonde and brunette, both 6’s, start staring at me from their seated positions. Out comes the blonde with that god awful American vocal fry: “Why would you fart on the subway? Is there something wrong with you?” She had no way of presuming I was or wasn’t a local but spoke in English. It also wasn’t the subway, but I didn’t bother reminding her about that.
“It wasn’t me, but thanks anyway,” I replied. Everyone could tell, bar these two, that the drunk had done it. I immediately debated in my head whether the accusation was due to the Trump hat or the protein shake. Logic said the protein shake, which I hadn’t even started to drink (I had shaken it at my stop before getting on the tram but it had come before I could drink). But in this climate, even thousands of miles from the States, I knew it was definitely Trump-related.
Brain-dead banter followed for three or four minutes, with the brunette backing up her friend, during which time a man in a suit told the girls in good English that it had been the drunk, the same guy who was so smashed that he was oblivious to the scandal he had created. The professional guy, a bank manager I later found out, also said it was ridiculous that this, two non-smelling farts, was causing a storm. I thanked the man but said aloud in both languages that the two girls should be ignored.
Transit officers got on at the next stop to check tickets. The girls used this as an opportunity to say I had broken some civil health, potentially criminal code by farting on the tram. Again, it was pointed out by a third-party that the drunk had done it, not me. I didn’t even bother to deny I had farted, as it was pointless, and told the transit people that it was a joke the girls were even arguing about this.
The blonde and brunette just would not stop and complained that the ticket inspectors were not listening to them. They asked to be directed to police. Most people, including myself and the girls, got off at a central stop and, yes, they hailed down two police in the immediate vicinity of the stop.
Brunette 6 and Blonde 6 approached the cops and the blonde was pointing at me as she did, as if I’d punched her in the face minutes before. I’m standing there, as are a few others, shaking our heads at the stupidity. As they said the word “farted”, the brunette gestured with her hands behind herself to indicate the movement of gas.
Both girls were close to hysterical. A grand total of six people, myself included, were ID’ed over this fucking joke of a matter, probably just so the police could expedite the girls being shooed away. Naturally, these two morons were first-time visitors to EE.
“Please go fuck yourselves,” I said nonchalantly to the girls at the end, in front of the police, who didn’t wince at my language given the farcical nature of the complaint. The officers, I gathered, thought they were classically mentally ill, not the mentally ill, culturally-enabled snowflakes we see in the West.
My hat was never explicitly mentioned by either girl, but on the tram during the banter I was called a pig, a horrible person, and a bigot, among other things, the last epithet being the clearest indication it was the hat.
The funniest part for me was the girls’ assumption, in their tone and body language, that they were speaking to me as some kind of brave equals ready for a fight, rather than as girls whom I could not reasonably punch.
Meanwhile, the drunk did not get off at my stop. He was too plastered to have any idea of what he inspired in those two cretins.
I don’t even know what to think of the experience. It was so bizarre that I was not once angry, more just exasperated and “Fuck this gay earth”.
You travel/relocate to get away from this mentality. The incident was akin to a microcosm of everythng wrong with feminism, SJWs, and victimhood culture.
There was a drunk guy on the train, swaying and generally doing what long-term Slavic drunks do. He would get up and stand, and then two minutes later sit down. I think he repeated this four or five times.
Around that fourth or fifth time, he stood up, came closer to me but not too close, and out comes a very audible, machine-gun fart.
I instinctively laugh and keep laughing, as do about half a dozen others, all locals. In addition to making various obscenities about serving politicians and Romanians/Latvians (I think), he farts again.
After the second fart, a blonde and brunette, both 6’s, start staring at me from their seated positions. Out comes the blonde with that god awful American vocal fry: “Why would you fart on the subway? Is there something wrong with you?” She had no way of presuming I was or wasn’t a local but spoke in English. It also wasn’t the subway, but I didn’t bother reminding her about that.
“It wasn’t me, but thanks anyway,” I replied. Everyone could tell, bar these two, that the drunk had done it. I immediately debated in my head whether the accusation was due to the Trump hat or the protein shake. Logic said the protein shake, which I hadn’t even started to drink (I had shaken it at my stop before getting on the tram but it had come before I could drink). But in this climate, even thousands of miles from the States, I knew it was definitely Trump-related.
Brain-dead banter followed for three or four minutes, with the brunette backing up her friend, during which time a man in a suit told the girls in good English that it had been the drunk, the same guy who was so smashed that he was oblivious to the scandal he had created. The professional guy, a bank manager I later found out, also said it was ridiculous that this, two non-smelling farts, was causing a storm. I thanked the man but said aloud in both languages that the two girls should be ignored.
Transit officers got on at the next stop to check tickets. The girls used this as an opportunity to say I had broken some civil health, potentially criminal code by farting on the tram. Again, it was pointed out by a third-party that the drunk had done it, not me. I didn’t even bother to deny I had farted, as it was pointless, and told the transit people that it was a joke the girls were even arguing about this.
The blonde and brunette just would not stop and complained that the ticket inspectors were not listening to them. They asked to be directed to police. Most people, including myself and the girls, got off at a central stop and, yes, they hailed down two police in the immediate vicinity of the stop.
Brunette 6 and Blonde 6 approached the cops and the blonde was pointing at me as she did, as if I’d punched her in the face minutes before. I’m standing there, as are a few others, shaking our heads at the stupidity. As they said the word “farted”, the brunette gestured with her hands behind herself to indicate the movement of gas.
Both girls were close to hysterical. A grand total of six people, myself included, were ID’ed over this fucking joke of a matter, probably just so the police could expedite the girls being shooed away. Naturally, these two morons were first-time visitors to EE.
“Please go fuck yourselves,” I said nonchalantly to the girls at the end, in front of the police, who didn’t wince at my language given the farcical nature of the complaint. The officers, I gathered, thought they were classically mentally ill, not the mentally ill, culturally-enabled snowflakes we see in the West.
My hat was never explicitly mentioned by either girl, but on the tram during the banter I was called a pig, a horrible person, and a bigot, among other things, the last epithet being the clearest indication it was the hat.
The funniest part for me was the girls’ assumption, in their tone and body language, that they were speaking to me as some kind of brave equals ready for a fight, rather than as girls whom I could not reasonably punch.
Meanwhile, the drunk did not get off at my stop. He was too plastered to have any idea of what he inspired in those two cretins.
I don’t even know what to think of the experience. It was so bizarre that I was not once angry, more just exasperated and “Fuck this gay earth”.
You travel/relocate to get away from this mentality. The incident was akin to a microcosm of everythng wrong with feminism, SJWs, and victimhood culture.
Born Down Under, but I enjoy Slovakian Thunder: http://slovakia.travel/en/nove-zamky
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