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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
Super Happy Kitten Fun Time
What happened: So I was heading on a plane, running very late due to security being tighter than a hamster's anus, run through the airport and make it just in time before the gate is closed. I'm still in rush-mode from my adrenaline and I hurry to find my seat. The backpack I'm wearing *might* be slightly over-stuffed and grazes a guy in the aisle seat.
He flips out, starts smacking my bag like he's a kitten and it's his toy mouse, just batting away like mad, all the while shouting profanities at me.
This is a business man, I'm a short petite girl, and I mean, this guy was really smacking the crap out of my bag.
What I said: Flustered, I sit down, beet red and mumble something to the extent of "It's not like I did that on purpose." Lame. I silently shake my fist at myself.
What I SHOULD have said: Sitting for a moment it occurs to me I should have said "Calm down there kitten, it'll be ok." Or,"I didn't know they allowed super happy kitty fun time on planes." Alas, the moment was gone and instead of voicing my witty retort I spent the next 2 hours of the flight cursing the damn spirit of the staircase.
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!