评论
打印
Who does it look like I'm talking to? The driver motioned me back. "That'll be fifty cents. This transfer is valid only if you catch the bus at Seventy-ninth Street." Technically he was, of course, correct; such a regulation certainly exists in a book somewhere.
“你看我像是跟谁说话呢？”司机招手示意我回去。“请付50美分。这张转乘车票你只有在79街上这趟车时才有效。”当然严格说来，他是对的：某本规章的某个地方肯定有这么一条规则。
But I get on here all the time, I protested.
“但我一直在这儿上车呢，”我抗议道。
I don't give a damn what you do. Fifty cents or get off the bus.
“我不管你平时怎么做的。50美分，要不就下车。”
So I gave him his half a buck -- and a good deal more than that in abuse. "You know," I said, taking a seat behind him, "it's people like you who give this city such a lousy reputation. What's the difference if I get on here -- especially on a day like this?"
于是我给了他半美元——还有更多的骂骂咧咧。“你知道吗，”我在他身后找了个位置坐下来说道，“就是你这样的人让这座城市背上了恶名。我在这个站上车又有什么区别嘛——尤其是在这种天气？”
There was no response. Indeed, with the wall of plastic between us, I was not even sure he'd heard. "You son of a bitch," I muttered.
他没有回应。事实上，我们之间隔了块塑料板，我甚至都不敢确定他有没有听到。“你个狗娘养的，”我嘟哝了一句。
He had heard. A moment later a huge hand was on my shoulder. "One more word from you and I'm throwing you off. I don't have to take that from no one."
他听到了。过了一会儿，一只大手搭在了我的肩膀上。“你再说一个字，我就把你扔下去。我才不吃这一套呢。”
For the rest of the ride I reserved my comments for the elderly gentleman beside me. I said that I hoped I had ruined the driver's day.
一路上，我向坐在身边的老人倾泻着我的抱怨。我说但愿那司机一天都不舒服。
He smiled benignly. "That's not a very nice sentiment," he said.
他慈祥地微笑了。“这情绪可不太好吧’”他说。
Why shouldn't I feel that way? He's ruined mine.
“为什么我不能这么想？他把我这一天都给毁了。”
