The Train In Vain: Sharing Commuting Stories

Sometimes you're irritable for no reason, and yesterday was one of those days. I was sitting in a three-seater on the aisle on the way into Manhattan, and the middle seat was empty. There was a man next to the window who wasn't doing anything so so terrible, but every move he made annoyed me.

Usually, I strive to be balanced and reasonable in my posts. But the night before I'd driven about 200 miles to western New Jersey and back to pick up something I bought on eBay. The traffic wasn't even that bad, quite frankly. I was simply tired. I had nothing to be grouchy about, but this was my state of mind. Thanks to the magic of blogging, I'm going to share with you the things that got under my skin.

I know what you ate for breakfast. His entire intestinal system teamed up and coordinated efforts to expel a deep burp. And once the burp was completed, the immediate area smelled like partially digested deli meat. I'm thinking of becoming a vegetarian.

The NY Daily News is a real page-turner. Before each turn of his 88-page tabloid, he licked his thumb. Most days I wouldn't care. I made a mental note to myself to not read newspapers left behind.

No need to put your bag up top. Come on guy, can't you put your bag somewhere else? Does it have to sit between us? Several times he reached into his pocket, which had the side effect of him shoving that bag against my side. Grrrrrrr.

If you spill that coffee on me... In preparation for each thumb-licking newspaper page turn, he
balanced his coffee cup on the middle seat, next to the bag. My coffee-spilling awareness anxiety kicked into high alert mode.

Slurp-smack with each coffee sip. Consuming coffee quietly is not an art form. It's a basic skill, and one this guy did not have. He had a wedding ring on. I wonder if his wife puts up with this or makes him drink coffee in another room.

Litterer! Litterer Alert! After he mercifully finished his coffee, he placed the cup under his seat. Hiding litter out of sight does not make it go away. There are garbage pails on every platform in Penn Station. Give a hoot, man. Don't pollute.

At Jamaica Station a man got on and asked me if he could sit in the middle seat. I got up to let him in, and the guy against the window looked at the interloper with passive anger. He slowly picked up his bag, stood up, and put it on the overhead rack. I enjoyed that little exchange very much.

It nearly neutralized the hostility I felt for the middle seat being taken.

Ok fine. Deep breaths. I'm calming down now. Live and let live, just not in my airspace.

Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.

Share commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.

Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Join the Mailing List" box.