I’ve witnessed a lot of subway goings-on over the last seven years: drunken behavior, fights, countless delays, vomiting, and even a fainting in which we called for doctors on nearby cars.
With that said, I don’t get too surprised when I witness something new.
Until this morning.
I walked onto my normal 6 train car and sat down.
Let me back up and say that, around the 9:00 hour, the 6 train cars at 96 street tend to be less crowded with several seats available.
I sat down next to a woman reading the paper. I situated myself and my umbrella, and noticed a young 20-something coming to sit down next to me in one of the two seats available.
Instead of leaving some room, she sat almost on top of me.
This threw me for a loop for two reasons: one, there were the aforementioned two seats available, and two, if you’re on your way to work, you should know better than to sit on top of someone unless it’s absolutely packed. This is called subway etiquette.
We picked up more commuters at 77th street. Another woman made a move to sit in the remaining empty seat. I moved over a smidgen, so not to sit on top of the woman reading the paper.
The young girl preceded to move closer to me and sat back, resting her entire left arm across my right and over into my chest.
Feeling heated, I started counting down the stops. She noticed a young man standing in front of her, whom she knew. As I listened in on their conversation (calm down, this may as well have been a threesome at this point), I overheard them talking about their summer internships.
So she’s young, perhaps she deserves a pass.
At 51st street, the woman reading the paper left. I slid over to take her seat, and rested against the railing.
And wouldn’t you know it? My new friend slid over to make room for her beau, and sat on top of me.
Thanks, subway jerk, for inducing my claustrophobia on this fine Thursday morning.