Anger Management. I don't have it

I took the 4:53 Union-Oshawa tonight.

The two people sitting across from me, a man and a woman, were already deep in transit comas before the train even rolled out of the station.

Every blip, shake, cough, rattle, etc would jolt the woman awake. The constant head bob/body shake, akin to being shocked by a cattle prod, was distracting as all hell.

At one point, my phone vibrated. It was my husband. Normally I don't bother with phone calls due to my intense hatred for the on-the-train-cell-conversations-about-how-amy-can't-make-it-to-red-lobster-and-i-dont-know-where-to-go-and-no-we're-not-going-to-milestones variety, but I answered it. My husband only calls when it's super important - like our kid's gone missing. That kind of thing.

He had swung by our childcare provider's home only to discover no one was home and this concerned him. It concerned me, too. She's picked up by 4:30, every day.

My husband asked me to tell him our childcare provider's phone number because his mobile was dead and his in-car Sync system doesn't have her number programmed.

Because the train was clacking and rocking loud and hard, I had to raise my voice so he could hear me say the number. This resulted in the death stares of all death stares from both the man and the woman who had snapped awake and the man muttered, "Talk loud enough?".

I heard him. It completely set me off. There's a reason why my husband calls me "Hulk". It's a running joke between us and of course, I've spun it numerous times into this site.

Really? No, c'mon, really?!

So I said even louder, "Sorry, you'll have to text me because I'm disturbing other peoples' naps. I guess sleep is more important than figuring out where our 6 year old daughter is." And I hung up.

I threw my phone into my bag and stared out the window.

I was pissed. The woman looked away. Embarrassed. Damn straight.

Let me put it this way, if I have something to say to someone, I'll say it. People who know me know this is true. Don't mutter. Speak your piece.

After Ajax, doesn't the asshat sitting across me get a phone call himself! From his wife. About, you guessed it, what to have for dinner. After 45 seconds of him instructing her to go to Quizno's to pick up subs and then him nattering off a list of all the toppings he wanted, I tapped his knee and said, "How about you text your list of toppings? I'm trying to think."

Then I grabbed my Blackberry from my bag, moved over one quad and called my husband and talked as loud as I could to find out if he had located our daughter. The man got up, shook his head, and went into the other coach.

Good riddance.

PS. My daughter is okay. That's all that really matters.