The other night, I got onto the train with , going back to ‘s place in Brooklyn. It was about 9, but the train was full all the same. We had gone out for Mongolian food with one of her work friends and had eaten enough ginger scallion stripped bass to make the ride to her home a sedate one. The train arrived as soon as we got to the platform and we rejoiced in our luck.
and I have only been going out for about 7 months, give or take a few weeks, and are still very much hands on. You know the type, always giggling about something and constantly remarking about “how lucky we are.” On a normal day, I will sit next to , if the seating permits, or stand over her, if not. In front of us lay a dilemma, or more accurately a person who presented a dilemma.
If you are not a New Yorker, or don’t ride on the Subway you may not be aware of METROPOLITAN TRANSIT AUTHORITY‘s campaign of not putting your bags on the seats. They basically compare it to taking a shit in the unsuspecting mouth of a stranger, if not worse. Which, if there are no seats, may be an accurate comparison, which made the fact that somebody was using a seat for her bags a slight discomfort.
The fact it was a MTA worker, made it infuriating.
The additional fact that, not only didn’t she move her bags, she looked strait at me and stared with the bitchiest smirk on her face seemingly saying “what? You want this seat? Well, I work here, it’s mine.” I, however, doubt she would have been as succinct, or as grammatically correct.
I guess I should have expected it.
I don’t want to give the impression that I think all MTA workers are all assholes, they’re not. Not only that, but most get a bad reputation that don’t deserve it. But sometimes… Sometimes… There are some assholes in the world. You just want to…
Ahh, forget it. Let me get on with my life. Sometimes it’s necessary to remind oneself what really matters. A seat on the subway isn’t one of them.