Okay, I debated a little about sharing the following story with you all, I really did. In the end, I have to just get it off my chest.

So after leaving my purse on the Trimet bus last Friday, I found myself goofing up again not two days later on the MAX light rail. Hubby, Lil’ E and I were on our way home from William’s birthday party on Sunday when it happened.

Lil’ E had begun to snooze on my lap, and I wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, another passenger thinks I look like the ideal Chatty Cathy to strike up a conversation with. With all the politeness I could muster, I responded to the man’s questions.

“Oh, he is two and a half”, I replied with a weary smile.

“Oh, that’s a lovely picture of your daughter,” I went on.

The passenger had a heavy set build, a business casual outfit and a OHSU badge (Oregon hospital), along with a bike helmet. That’s about as much as I can remember. He went on to tell me the heights of EVERY MAN in his daughter’s family tree because I was dumb enough to comment that she looks older than 8 in her school photo. Enough, I was thinking, how can I back out of this conversation. Why can’t I be like Hubby and be fine with just completely ignoring people!?

“Wow”, I continued to remark, gradually getting more and more obvious (I THOUGHT!) that I wanted to do just about anything but talk at the moment.

And then it happened.

“That’s crazy”, I said, with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Then I heard myself say, “And how tall is her mother?”

…

First, Hubby jerks his head sideways at me in horror.

Second, the marathon conversationalist takes on a whole new tone.

“Excuse me?!

-I’m a girl!”

…

OHMYGOD. Oh.my.gggaaaaawwwddddd.

It doesn’t even stop there. Had I retained any brain cells, I might have covered up my faux paux with something like, “Oh, sorry, I meant to say her father… heh heh… whew, it’s been a long day!”

But no. No, that’s not what I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I — I couldn’t tell…. your…er… hat…er”

(I still contest that there was not one defining feminine trait to this character. NOT ONE!)

I felt like I was melting. I wanted to get off at the next stop and wait for the next train, but I was frozen in my seat.

The man woman ended up shrugging it off and continued to go on and on about his her tall daughter, which only made the whole thing more awkward. I was like three feet off the bus already when he she was still calling out to me the name of the preschool his her daughter attended. I MEAN – HOLY CRAP!

I have no idea how I could have avoided this run in with the anonymously gendered passenger, but sometimes I need to keep MY BIG FAT MOUTH SHUT and let the weirdos talk to themselves.

EDIT: Thanks to the folks at www.trimetiquette.com for agreeing on just how embarrassing that was.