Jonas Johansson

I’m on a train in Sweden, and I’m thirsty.

To be a kind person I asked around if people in my proximity wanted something from the bistro, since I was heading there anyway. A woman just across from me said “yes, please, a coffee.” I couldn’t quite tell her age, so let’s refer to her as Ladywomangirl. I asked Ladywomangirl if she wanted milk in her coffee. She said “No, no milk!”

I started walking but a very old couple, who probably still had sex because they seemed utterly jolly, told me the bistro was in the opposite direction. All of us laughed together and we were ever so good friends. Ah-ah-ah.

I walked over bags, crouched under people and snuck past fatties through so many wagons that people in the back actually spoke another language.

Finally there, ready to queue. After some time of waiting I ordered one coffee without milk for her and one coffee with milk for me. I was told I had to pick it up myself. Alright, let’s see now… two coffees and one tiny bag of milk for me. Easy. I even picked up two freakishly good-looking buns since I was in such a giving mood.

After backtracking through the jungle of freaks back to my wagon I was met with happiness and expactations. Here be thy coffee, Womanladygirl. Rejoice! She did “the gesture” - she held her wallet and said “how much was it?” without any actual intention of paying of course. I told her “please, it’s on me.”

I sat down and was about to reach for the milk package… when SHE did! Womanladygirl, who explicitly expressed that she didn’t want anything to do with milk whatsoever, took the single. bag. of milk. and poured it in her coffee. She didn’t even look insecure. As if “no, no milk!” meant “yes, please, and bring me loads of it, manslave.”

I wanted to take my still scolding hot coffee (since I didn’t have any milk to cool it with) and throw it in her face and scream “oh, and by the way, IT’S FIVE BUCKS!”

You might think I could’ve gone for another bag of milk. But seriously, it was so far away I could’ve taken a train within a train to get there. My coffee would’ve been cold at best when I’d get back. Moldy or vaporized are two likelier scenarios.

But as the Swede I am I just drank the darker-than-black coffee (tasted like my own piss by the way) and smiled like a generous tard at her.

I’ll think twice before acting in kindness next time.