“Fuck the pupusa,” the plump woman said.
I looked up from my phone. “What the hell is a pupusa?” I said.
A slim, young man, probably a college student, spoke up. “It’s a delicious food from El Salvador,” he said as he licked his lips. “Made of a corn tortilla filled with cheese and meat.”
The plump woman began to sob.
I shrugged my shoulders in the woman’s direction. “What’s with her?” I said in a low voice. I didn’t want her to hear me. She might be a psycho and attack me.
The college student shook his head.
“I kill you when I get home,” the plump woman said. She then rattled off a heated string of words in Spanish.
I raised my eyebrows.
The college student whispered to me. “She’s furious about the pupusa. Not sure if someone ate it or what.”
The plump woman took a tall can of beer out of her handbg. She slipped a paper bag over the can and cracked the tab. Before she sipped she stared at each passenger in her field of view, as if daring them to disapprove.
The conductor came into the car. “Tickets please.” He went from row to row punching tickets.
I bet that crazy woman will refuse to pay or start a fight. I watched as the conductor approached the plump woman. “Ticket please,” he said to the woman. “Why Ingrid, it’s great to see you. How ya doing?”
“It’s a lovely day isn’t it,” the plump woman said as she handed the ticket to the conductor.
My jaw almost hit the floor. I watched as the conductor chatted with the woman about the weather and the exhibit at the Met.
The conductor finished and left for the next car.
The plump woman pulled out her phone and clamped it next to her hear. “Bastard, stuff your fat face with queso and die,” she said.
I smiled and put my ear phones back in.
