Dear Sir/Miss/Madam/Reverand/Your Honour/Dude;
Of late, you may have noticed I have become increasingly frustrated with your behaviour on our fair city’s lurching behemoth of a transit system. You may have heard me muttering obscure Sumerian curse words at you under my breath, or treating you to an ocular phenomenon I call simply ‘the stink-eye’. In the interests of peace and harmony, and to prevent a further deterioration of relations, I would like you to know the following:
- Contrary to what you have no doubt spent hours trying to convince yourself of, I do, in fact, exist. This means I occupy space, require oxygen to live, and astonishingly, am also trying to get to work.
- You are never more than 7 feet from the door of subway car, no matter where you are standing. The doors will remain open for about 30 seconds. I know there are lots of people in your way. But frankly, I have every confidence that you can cover those 7 feet in the alloted time no matter the obstacles arrayed in front of you. So you can stop clawing at my back like a starving polecat while the train is still in motion.
- Pursuant to item #2, when there are approximately one gabillion people on the subway, and the train is still moving, you standing behind me and saying ‘excuse me’ over and over again does not magically give the ability to part all the people standing around me like some latter-day mass transit Moses, or temporarily wink out of this space-time continuum to allow you through. I don’t have anywhere to go. So, unless you’d like to be clubbed like a baby seal, I suggest you wait until the train stops.
- When you get on the train and stop in the doorway, you betray both your startling self absorbtion and a bizarre misapprehension as to the purpose of doors.
- When exiting the train, cutting me off and darting in front of my path is not charming. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am more than happy to give people equal access to the station space. However, if you do not give me the same consideration I will run into you. I am 6′2″. I weight 190lbs. I eat like 6lbs of chicken wings a week. Nine times out of ten, that is a battle I am going to win. This lesson was particularly evident to the idiot lawyer in the nice suit I knocked over in Union Station today. He was short, and his tie did not really match his shirt.
Please consider the preceding when next riding the TTC. It will help avoid future confrontations and make for a more pleasant, enjoyable ride for everyone.
Yours Sincerely,
The Angry Shaved Head Guy.
UPDATE [18/01/08]: Audio Blogmeister JoshuaVT has posted an audio companion to this post up on his site. Check it out.
Hear, hear. You have just outlined why I no longer ride the TTC if I can help it. Though I would add the disgraceful fact that often two or three streetcars go by before I can actually get on one. What’s up with that?
You’re such a bully. You were just jealous that the lawyer got to work much longer hours then you at the sacrifice of his sanity and social ability.
Add to note:
Homeless and Drunk people; please do TRY to stop peeing, vomiting and pooping on the streecar/subway a mere ten feet from where I’m sitting. There ARE bathrooms at every stop.
6) Get your DAMN token/metropas/transfer/coinage out and ready. There is nothing more frustrating than waiting for some tool to figure out how to operate a turnstile while I’m on my way to work.
7) Stop eatting McDonalds on the subway. You stink. Like hell.
9) Possibly the most offensive aspect of the ride in the morning/night, is your complete lack of respect for the elderly and pregnent ladies of this city. Get your FAT ASS out of the seat and offer it to them. I’m looking directly at you Holy-Than-Thou teenagers.
10) Congratulations on making it onto the subway car! Perhaps now you can take another few steps and let a few other people on too, you worthless piece of shit. MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE I KICK YOUR SUBURBAN ASS BACK TO MISSISSAUGA!
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