I used to write for my college newspaper, and there was this joke that the one thing you couldn’t write about was the post office on campus. It sucked, everyone knew it sucked, and writing the 659th article about its suckage pretty much meant you sucked as a writer and couldn’t come up with anything newsworthy.
I recognize that writing about the many small indignities of commuting is the office-drone equivalent of writing about the campus post office, but here I go anyway, because this NEEDS TO BE SAID.
Gentlemen (because it’s always a guy) take note: you are not entitled to spend the duration of your commute in the space in the train you occupy when you first alight. You are just not.
It is one thing if you are sitting in a seat. If you get a seat? Fine. Stay there. Sure, I’d like to see you stand up for little old men and pregnant ladies, but if you prefer to be kind of a low-grade jerk and keep reading your magazine while you pretend not to notice the blue haired grandma struggling to keep her balance right in front of you, fine. I will leave you be.
But if you are standing? And if the place you like to stand is leaning broadly against the glass wall right inside the door of the car? And if it is rush hour and dozens of people are getting on at every stop? MOVE YOUR ASS. Seriously. You are slowing us down with your stubborn refusal to move further into the car. Yes, I realize that it is more comfortable to lean in a languid fashion against the glass than it is to hold on for dear life to a greasy metal pole. AND YET. People should not have to jostle around you, buffeted by your huge ridiculous Timbuktu man bag, to reach the open spaces within.
Perhaps a diagram would be illustrative:
So are we clear? If you are a young, fit, able-bodied dude, there is no excuse for you taking up prime real estate in the el car at the expense of everyone else. You can pretend that you’re so engrossed in your music or magazine that you don’t even notice the people having to contort themselves like circus tumblers to get around you, but no one is fooled. You’re annoying, you’re rude, and you’re going to get you an elbow to the face pretty soon if you don’t cut it out.
Thank you, that is all.
Ha! Giant Timbuktu Man Bag!!! Love it!
I’ve seen her in action on the el dude. Don’t mess with pseudo.
(P.S. The diagram was really beneficial. I appreciate the visual aid.)
that diagram is awesome.
also! i, too, hate that dude. in dc he is usually wearing his work badge prominently clipped to his pants, so we can see whatever Super Important Agency he works for.
ARGH. But at least this guy has taught you an important life skill: Photoshop!
Perhaps it is a small indignity, but this needs to be repeated again and again and AGAIN until the dbag at Sedgwick gets it.
Love the diagram!
I would seriously spear this dude.
Usually he is holding the bar at the very top and I get firmly embedded in his armpit. But how could he possibly be expected to notice the very angry short girl who’s all up in his shit (despite her visible discomfort)?
UGH! This is my pet peeve! Unless the next stop is yours, MOVE INSIDE THE CAR! Or at least move out of the way when people are getting on and off the train!
Preach it, sister!!
Yes. Yesyesyes.
Also, for all you douchebags who choose to sit instead of stand: close your legs. You get one seat. ONE.
Amen!
This used to drive me batty in DC. I actually told an able-bodied, 20-something to get off his ass and give up his seat for the clearly nine-month pregnant lady.
Assholes.
Even though I don’t take Atlanta’s lame-ass version of public transportation very often (MARTA is only good for the airport or sports events), I still deal with these same douchebags. ESPECIALLY the ones who think they can sprawl across two seats with their legs wide open in the “I’m badass” way of sitting.
The other people that drive me nuts? Those who put their purse/grocery bag/computer bag on the seat beside them (or stand their luggage up in front of the seat beside them, as opposed to the designated luggage area), and refuse to move it when someone gets on. MOVE YO’ SHIT.
As I drive my personal vehicle to work, I don’t get to deal with that particular asshole. However, we have the guys in their late 20′s to early 30′s driving mini-vans. And apparently they know there is nothing less cool than driving a mini-van so they overcompensate by driving like raving lunatics and blood curdling speeds.