Willing to Bet?

My wife always complained about how no one on public transit ever stood up for pregnant women, and I tried to argue. I told her that couldn’t possibly be true, and that I stood up all the time for this very reason. She asked me how much I was willing to bet.

I had no clue what I was getting myself into.

And that’s how I ended up swapped into the eight-months-pregnant body of my wife’s friend, Maggie. The terms of the bet were simple. I’d take a bus from our home in Brooklyn to midtown. If anyone offered their seat for me, I’d get my body back and be able to tell my wife “I told you so.” If not? Well, I’d be spending the next month in Maggie’s body, and I’d be the one experiencing child birth for her.

There were simple rules, like they had to offer (I couldn’t ask). As we got past 14th Street, I was getting pretty scared that no one would stand. I started to stare people down or other use nonverbal communication. But no one was budging.

I was not looking forward to the next month.