jotsheet

I’ve been riding the El nearly every day for about 17 months now. I’m pretty used to it, and I’m pretty good at it. But goddammit, my fellow humans aren’t. It’s time for me to lay down the law.

• When I’m getting off the train, let me off the fucking train. I get off before you get on, and the two operations cannot occur simultaneously. So move your fat ass to the side of the doors and let me off.
• The middle of the train counts too. I can guarantee that it’s absolutely no more fun to ride the train near the door than it is to ride it in the middle of the car. So squish in and make room, chode smokers.
• Take off that goddamn backpack. It takes up as much room as another person! Take that damn thing off and hold it. Put it on the floor between your legs. Just don’t swing your high schoolish bag around and hit me like the oblivious tool you are.
• GET THE FUCK OFF THE CELL PHONE. Now this is no joke—I’ve been tempted to bring a knife with me on the train to keep these inconsiderate shit-for-brains from blabbing to the whole world. I can guarantee you, no one cares about your dinner plans, no one cares about your fiancee picking you up at Dempster, and no one cares about you registering for classes. Turn that shit off.
• When two seats are open, sit next to the window, asswipe. Don’t act like you get two seats to yourself, because believe me, I’m gonna seek you out and make you move over. I do this all the time, just because I know you don’t deserve to sit by the aisle. Fall in step with the rest of humanity, dipshit. That’s what we do around here.

Ahhh.

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