Sorry, man on the metro

The crowded morning commute on the metro is always an adventure, and usually involves plenty of uncomfortable, and mostly accidental, touching. The design of these trains isn't really conducive to maintaining personal space, if you know what I mean. Most people have an aversion to the mid-point of the center aisle, and refuse to be trapped, I mean, stand, in the points farthest from the doors. Hence, you get the door crowding problems, where you have to weave through approximately 25 people to get out of the train. And, if you happen to have the misfortune of sitting near the doors (YES, MISfortune), you're face is about the height to fit snugly into someone's derriere. You are in that awkward position whereby the neutral position of your head (i.e. looking straight ahead/on the same axis), the only thing you can look at is people's crotches & cracks. yucky. Hence, if in that position, I either put my chin to my chest to stare at the floor, or violently flip my head back to stare at the ceiling. You may want to try that little hint. Turning to the guy next to you doesn't really help - that just freaks them out and they try and increase the 1 cm gap between the two of you.

Back to the weird body contact. The thing is, most everyone tries to avoid this awkward touching - deliberate body movements and facial expressions are seen as people (including myself) can hope to exude their dislike of the situation. Exaggerated, twisted body movements to get out of the way of people say to me: "Can't you see the effort I put out to not rub my ass against yours as you tried to exit the train?!?" Well, it didn't work, but thanks for the impression of giving your all. I know that you were subjecting yourself to additional uncomfortable touching just for my sake. So thank you for throwing your knee into that woman's back. Of course there are those sickos who look down at you as you shimmy off the train - just wanting to see if you notice how firm their...Ok well, you get the picture. I actually saw a sketchy looking guy lick his lips at this pretty girl had to carve a pathway through the passengers (he being one of them in her path). Hear that sound? That's me retching. Ugh. Wait, one more time. Ok, now that's better. Oh geez, not again...Ok, that one was only to the top of the neck and back down - I think I'll be ok now. Exiting the train: No one would part the people sea, so, I kid you not, I had to crowd-surf. I jumped on the "door people" as I now refer to them, and they carried me to victory. I felt like Rudy at Notre Dame. Except I was dumped onto the "platform people," which is not one bit of fun. They don't give 2 craps, they just want to get to the uncomfortable, suffocating inside of the train, and become one of the door people. They know they're about to enter the "zone of pressed bodies", and they are running and pushing to be the first one it - I don't get it! Anyway, they dropped me. And tripped me. And left me for dead as the train pulled away. Just kidding, they left me for dead while the train was still there.

Anyway, back to weird contact. We are so willing to give up our personal space along as everyone else is. It's like you're "wearing" the people around you - they become extensions of your own body. You can reach from here to the other end of the train if you really try. Expect ghost limb pains - they're normal. If some guy 3 people away has his toe stomped on, you'll feel it. After all, he is only 6 inches away from you. Again, I digress. SO, this morning...I want to apologize to the man who I was pushed into on the platform. In the mass hysteria to make it to the little turnstyles, because, if you didn't know, you only have 20 seconds to make it up the stairs and through those things or they will bite you, or the fare doubles, or something else really terrible will happen, like not being the first one on the escalator. (now you know why it is extremely important to run to the metro exit...). Anyway, a gentleman in a mad dash for the stairs bumped me into this other man, and the corner of my lean cuisine box rammed right into his tooshie. Not the soft fatty area, but at the chasm...Sorry, mister - didn't mean to shove low fat, low carb chicken enchiladas up your ass. It was the guy stuck to my backside who made me do it.