This isn’t going to be in chronological order because of what happened in the past hour.

After I left Hannafords, I decided not to take the bus to Cambridge. I thought that since the police had already shown up once today, I shouldn’t risk there being another problem on the bus, or during the walk from Central Square to the Women’s Center, since there are often conglomerate-supportive police and firetrucks already waiting at Central Square by the time I get there.

I decided to go to the Waltham Public Library.  Although I knew that I would be harassed there and that they were likely to call the police if I objected to being harassed, I thought that I would be able to block out the sound of the harassment by listening to music and I also thought that at least the harassment would be just from people coughing at me from their computers, that it was predictable and therefore more manageable than whatever might happen on the way to Cambridge or in Cambridge.

When I got to the computer room, the white, female librarian at the desk gave a big cough.

A few men in the computer room coughed or sneezed during the first hour that I was working on the computer.

During the second hour, a white man who was probably at least in his late 50’s sat at the computer on the other side of the table, directly across from me.  Not only did he keep loudly sneezing and blowing his nose, he kept shoving the table toward me.

I took a break so that I could get some information that I needed.  I went upstairs, observing the smile on the librarian’s face; she probably thought that she and the other harassers had successfully driven me from the room.

When I went upstairs and looked for a desk, I walked past a young, white woman who was shelving books.  I sat at the first desk that I saw.  While I was looking for the information that I had gone upstairs to get, I heard a loud sneeze; it was the woman who was shelving books.

I went over to her and said, very quietly, “Don’t do that again.”  She said “Don’t do what again?”  I said “The sneezing.  I heard it.  You know what it is.  Don’t do it again.”  She said “OK, I won’t do it again.”

I went back to the computer room on the first floor after that; in order to do that I went back to the elevator, which by then had a book car next to it, on which the only book was one that said “BOXING” and had been written by “W.C. Heinz.”

When I got to the computer room, I saw that the only person at the librarian’s desk was the librarian who had coughed at me when I’d gotten to the library this morning.  She was on the phone.

I went to the front desk and asked who was in charge of the library today.  I was told that the librarian in the computer room, Laura, was in charge.

I went over to her, showed her the man who had been shoving the table at me, and told her that he’d been doing that.  I didn’t mention that he’d also been doing other harassment; I knew she wouldn’t care about that.  She said “He’s probably not doing it on purpose.”  I said “Is that what you think, LAURA?”

She then said that she would go over to talk to him.

She went over to talk to him, and then walked back to me and said “I can call the police if you want.”

I didn’t think that was necessary; all she had to do was tell him to behave himself.  I said “Call the police?”

She said “Yes.  Whenever there’s a dispute, we call the police.  You’re saying that he shoved the table at you, he said he didn’t, it’s a “He said, she said,” so the only way to resolve it is to call the police.”

I said “I don’t think you need to call the police.  There’s a computer a few tables away from him that’s free; I’ll go there, and why don’t you just keep an eye on him?”

She said something like “I think there was already an issue with him and another staffperson today, so I’m going to call the police.”

I went over to the computer, thinking that I was gaining some valuable information about how the Waltham Public Library gets run.  I don’t want to call the librarians at that library who keep calling the police “Nervous Nellies,” because they’re also bullies.  However, is that the way that they deal with everything that happens there, by calling the police?  With a guy like the one who was shoving the table at me, you tell him that he needs to behave himself or he’ll have to leave.  If he doesn’t behave himself, then you tell him to leave.  If he won’t leave, then you threaten to call the police.  If he still won’t leave after you’ve threatened to call the police a few times and showed him that you’re serious and will do it, then you call the police.

I decided that I hadn’t had much for breakfast anyway, it was approaching lunchtime, and, since I hadn’t thought the police should get called about the guy, I could leave.  I walked by the librarian who had said she was going to call the police; I asked her what was going on.  She said “I called the police.  I heard that you also yelled at one of our student librarians.”

I said “What?”  I hadn’t yelled at the girl upstairs who’s sneezed at me; when I spoke to her, I hadn’t even used a regular tone of voice.  I had spoken so quietly that she was the only one who could have heard me, and that was to tell her not to harass me.

“I didn’t yell at her,” I said to the librarian, “She harassed me and I told her not to.”

The librarian said “She was frightened.  She’s a very frightened girl.”

I said “So you called the police about ME?”

She said “She’s a very frightened girl.”

I said “How dare you?”

I turned to leave and a female librarian at the next desk, who had harassed me a previous time that I’d been at the library and of whom I had taken a picture when she’d done it and then published it on the Internet, coughed at me.

I could feel that I was about to lose my temper, which I thought would not be a good thing to do with the police already on the way.  I looked at her, said “How dare you?” to her, and then “I’m leaving this building.  I’m leaving.”

When I left the building, I saw that the bus to Cambridge was about to get to the bus stop across the street.  I walked across the street and got on the bus.

The bus drives past the police station on its way out of Waltham.  I saw that police car #451 was parked at the front of the driveway.

A few people harassed me on the bus.  All of the ones who were close enough to me that I could talk to them without raising my voice stopped when I confronted them.  There was one other guy farther back on the bus who kept doing the coughing that’s like grunting; I decided to ignore him, feeling that I needed to worry more about getting to Cambridge and to a computer than about one guy at the back of the bus that I would have had to raise my voice to talk to or go looking through the bus to find out who it was.

When the bus got to Cambridge, I pushed the signal for the bus to stop at the stop that’s near the Women’s Center.  The bus didn’t slow down at all, and, since I’ve taken the bus to Cambridge from Waltham before and it’s gone right to Central Square without stopping at the bus stop that I need, I yelled “Stop the bus!  I pressed the button, so stop the bus!”

He stopped the bus at the bus stop and said “Who’s yelling?”  I said “Me.”  He said “Are you crazy?”  I said “No.”  He said, “Yeah, you are.”

I’m here, aren’t I?

Copyright L. Kochman, September 15, 2012 @ 12:48 p.m./addition to title @ 2:55 p.m.