Personal Space

Earlier today I went to the Subway on H St where I often like to micro-manage the creation of my sandwich of choice, usually a Spicy Italian on Hearty Italian w/ tomatoes, onions, spinach, peppers, oil & vinegar, and spicy mustard - NO LETTUCE. I swear to god those sandwich "artists" always reach for the lettuce like babies reach for a tit and DUMP a pound of lettuce on top of my delicious provolone, pepperoni, and ham..why ruin it? WHY??

Ahem...anyway, this Subway is undoubtedly the smallest Subway in the US (sq footage on 1 floor criteria). The minute you enter the door you are squished between the right edge of the counter and those standing in line. I was waiting patiently in line when two women entered and instead of going in line behind me like most normal people would, they stood beside me to my right. They stood very close to me for no apparent reason other than they clearly don't believe in personal space. I listened for an accent because maybe they were European and not at all about personal space. Nope, they were definitely American. I took a shift to my left and scooted up a bit but one women just moved closer to me and was practically in my ear. So I try to ignore this but instead gave her a dirty look to imply, "Back the eff up." But she only came closer. To bring it all home she turned to her friend and said, "This morning I woke up and felt gross. I think I'm coming down with something." Great, I've got bird flu lady right beside me breathing in my ear and making me anxious in this enclosed space. So again I tried to scoot up away from her and order my sandwich in peace. I was successful in preventing her from breathing all over my Spicy Italian and had a wonderful lunch. I think I might return tomorrow, armed with Lysol and a big bag to keep my personal space at a premium!