Today, I was broadsided by a snot-nosed idiot on the subway as I knitted up the sleeve on the sweater I'm currently working on. He stood angled in front of me, turned his head, sneered, looked down his nose and said,"Ain't that a girly thang you do?"
As the collective breath was inhaled by twenty-five or so fellow travelers in earshot, I stopped knitting. I put my work down, stood up from my seat, massed as much bulk as humanly possible on my 230-pound frame, and got two inches from his nose. Using the deepest epiglottal roll I could muster, I thundered in the loudest stage whisper for all in the car to hear:
"No, it's not girly. I do it so my anti-violence psychotropic drugs kick in. Wanna help?"
The doors of the subway opened, the jerk left the ride clearly earlier than he intended, the crowd applauded, I sat down and continued to knit.
The ride and the smiles thereafter were quite pleasant.