Ah commuting, so loverly.
Here are some things I am not a fan of on my commute (I’m talkin to you ORANGE LINE!)
- People who run. It’s work, people. That’s why they call it work, not happy fun time place. What’s the hurry? Today, new one, someone RAN onto the elevator. RAN. Full steam ahead, panting. N.B.: There are about 10 elevators at my Ginormous gov. office building. In EACH bank. There’s gonna be another one. Ditto trains. Which brings me to…
- People who jam-pack the trains. Folks, see the little handy sign with the neon letters. See how it says “1 minute.” One. Minute. Seriously?? Seriously. You’d rather jam your self and your twenty giant bags (each seeming to contain a disproportionate amount of right angled objects, stabbing me in the head) into the train, then wait … a minute… for the next one.
- Sneezers, wheezers, and other germ-festians. Stay home. Seriously. Here’s the latest grossest thing observed, just yesterday: Sneezer dude PICKED his nose, right on the trade, not even a sneak pick either, full on pickage! and then… that’s right, with the SAME HAND, he held onto the ring for standers on the train. Ohhhh.
- Seat sprawlers. There are several methods for this. My latest least fave: bag abusers. The other a.m., on the orange line, megas galore, hogging and sprawling, finally i get a seat. It is tight and I find myself needing to sit sideways into the aisle. I blame the widening of America and well, let’s be honest, the widening of me. But when I get off the train? I notice … noooo, Sprawly McSprawlington had his red boxy (note the many right angles in a rectangle) LUNCH box on my seat. Didn’t even pretend to try to swoop it up before the person before me or I sat down. Even though I had my bad ON MY LAP as he was taking up all floor space and arm span space with his paper opening and foot tapping. Harumph. I still need to get to the gym though.
XXXX OOOOO, your pal grump a lot.