Personal Space

Last year, on my way to work, I was hugged. Now I'm guessing you're about to skip on to the next person's blog, because to post about something so mundane sounds infinitely boring. I mean, is this Kelraiser one of those lame-type bloggers? One of thsoe who write stuff like "This morning I woke up and brushed my teeth and took a shower and realized I was out of shampoo ..." and that's as far as you get because your eyes have rolled into the back of your head and you just took a nose-dive into your keyboard, snoring?

Don't worry, this story is a little better than that. This is the story of the weirdest hug I ever received. I still wonder about that woman, and why she felt like it was the right thing to do at that moment, and looking back, I guess it was ... but I'm getting to the end of it before I begin, so here is the story in the proper order ...

Like I said, I was on my way to work. The usual commute I can do with with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. Well, I've never actually tried to do it that way, but I imagine I could, if I could use one of those futuristic cars that works by mind control. There's rarely any traffic on the highways I take to work, but on this day there was. Usually I fly down the North-South Tollway and get on the ramp to the Stevenson Expressway, and then cruise right on to the exit I need for my work. But on this day there was an accident on the Stevenson, and it had clogged up traffic so far that the ramp between the highways was backed up, and I first had to lean on my brakes even before I'd made it to the ramp.

Despite the interruption in my crusing, I wasn't all that road enraged. My start time is flexible, and while I hate staying late to make up the time, it's ok. I cranked my radio and was just admiring the view from the bridge of the two backed up highways, the surrounding farmland and encroaching industrial development housing, and contemplating what I had lined up for work today. And as my eyes sort of wandered about, that's when I first saw her.

She was in my rear-view window. So close, I could swear she was sitting on my trunk. So close, I could tell the color of her eyes and the small wrinkles in her forhead that belied she was probably 40-ish. The only thing was, she was in her car, which was technically behind mine. Barely. She was a ... tailgater.

Hold on, I don't think you read that right. I can't stand tailgaters, and you need to feel that too if you're going to be on the same page with me here. So if you just kind of visually shrugged off the last word of that last paragraph without reading the italics with the necessary sneer and digust, please go back and reread it again. Maybe with some dramatic music playing in your head. Maybe think of zooming in on her head in an unflattering way and stamp the word "TAILGATER" in black block letters on her forehead, and maybe have her start cackling and twisting her mustache or something.

Together we crept down the ramp, about a half a car-length at a time, me obsessively glancing up in my rearview mirror ever few seconds. Unbelievable! She wouldn't back off! How was this going to get her anywhere faster? The highway was backed up for miles ahead of us. I felt the twinge of road rage. Then, reason won out - at the rate we were going, who really cared if she was on my tail, it wasn't like we were going to get in an accident at this speed. I decided to ignore her and focus on the car ahead of me, waiting for it to move another inch so I could take my foot off the brake.

I suddenly felt my car lurch forward. I looked up into my rearview mirror and saw eyes widen, her mouth forming the "O" as in "oh no," her head shaking in distress. I'd been hit. I let out the kind of sigh I reserve for my most aggravated situations, the one that practically collapses my lungs, and I pounded my steering wheel with the ball of my fist.

I pulled off onto the ramp's shoulder and sat in the car for a moment, very angry and not sure what to do. I'd never been in an accident before. I watched her to see what she would do, and at first I thought she was going to go right past me. She sat on the ramp for a moment, holding up traffic behind her. She wouldn't have gotten very far, of course, with the traffic. Instead she pulled up behind me.

I jumped out and circled to the back to check for damage. She jumped out too. And before I'd even made it to the back of my car she was right in front of me, violating my personal space yet again. She was very distraught, apologizing over and over and it seemed like she was pleading with me, "I'm sorry. I'm running so late for work. My car stalled and I rolled and you look like a very nice girl. See, there's no damages ..." I had made it to the bumper by this point, and was examing it.

Finally I looked up and met her eyes. I'd been too angry to do it before, but now seeing that my car was fine I was just exasperated. I was about to say something about how, as far as I knew, when your car stalls your brakes still work. Or something about how maybe, if she'd not been an inch from my bumper to start with, she would have had time to hit her brakes ... And that's when she threw herself at me. I mean, she hugged me -- the kind of hug that renders you immobile with your arms trapped straight on either side, and leaves you feeling utterly ridiculous.

And when she finally let go, we were left looking at each other. I was in total shock. And I was more angry than ever, and couldn't keep my thoughts straight to say any of the mean things I'd been planning. I've forgotten what I eventually said. It was something like, "Ok, fine, let's go then." And suddenly I was back in my car. I waved her to get back on the ramp first, and incredulously watched her tailgate a different car the rest of the way down. Then I just went to work.

It's weird how we float around in these bubbles of our own personal space, all of different dimensions, and what a trauma it can be when the bubble is violated by a stranger. When she hit my car, I was thinking, "how dare she be so close?" and then to have the same reaction, but even more, when she hugged me -- apparently her bubble was very small, and mine very large.

I think she changed the size of my bubble, just a little. It seems that the bubble that I was in, not only was I not comfortable with letting strangers into it, I also wasn't really looking out past the edge of it. Now I check inside other cars on the road for my hugger. It's funny to me that when you are doing the same commute every day at the same time, so is everyone else, so you should recognize some of your fellow commuters. Once in a while I see the same guy that reads the morning paper propped on his steering wheel while cruising along in the center lane. It's been a year and I haven't seen my drive-by hugger again.