Ok, actually done now.
Often times on the train there is no place to sit. Duh. So when you wrestle your way onto a crowded train, and navigate the jungle of not paying attention passengers until you find a comfortable place to stand, you feel like a hero. A hero that has earned the right to ignore everyone, and pretend they are not in a cramped smelly shit wagon. Hahah, what a foolish hero. Next stop, the doors open, passengers flood in, and everyone simultaneously realizes their favorite spot on the train is on the other side of you. For the next five minutes you're all
because no matter how much time passes, if you don't stay vigilant, you'll hear "excuse me" from someone that has to peruse the entire subway car for the perfect fucking spot. Occasionally you'll have to lean into an uncomfortable position to let this person pass, and despite hoping you were only briefly going to become a contortionist, this person will annoyingly linger in what was only supposed to be a temporary void.
Connecting Train Bullshit
Let's start this one with the most obvious statement in the history of the universe: Sometimes trains don't run on time. Now let's add the fact that there are lots of popular travel hubs throughout cities, where people will transfer to different trains. Put these two together and you get the inconvenient fact that to keep passengers happy, if a train pulls into a station 30 seconds ahead of a popular connecting train, it should probably wait for the other one to arrive so that people can quickly make their transfer and go about their days, lest the people on the arriving train miss the connection, and have to wait on the stupid platform for another god damned 8 minutes.
I have frequently been on the shit end of this situation. The train is cruising along, and I'm miraculously only a couple minutes late probably. We pull into a station, and just when the doors should close, suddenly "hold on folks, we're waiting for a connecting train!"
But I bear it, because I know if the train were to leave, my on time-ness would be at the expense of hundreds of other peoples' lateness.
Then we pull into the next station, where I need to make my transfer.
And my connecting train is pulling out of the station.
YOU COULDN'T WAIT 5 FUCKING SECONDS?! I don't get it.
The Turnstyles are at Crotch Level.
This is more of a personal gripe. I'm at the perfect height and proportion that if I want to race through the turnstyle in a hurry, I'm going to collide with it exactly at ball sack level.
|For the French speakers.|
No dammit. I've got places to be. My haste shouldn't be interrupted because of this unfortunate testicular happenstance.
"Yes! I made the train, phew! Now to hopefully ride in silence!" -You. Haha, you fucking idiot.
Nobody hates babies, but everybody hates screaming babies, which is too bad, because when a baby is on a train, they struggle to make sense of this strange room full of strangers rocketing through the earth to points unknown. All they can think is "Hmm, guess I should probably scream about this."
|"SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM. I LOVE TO SCREAM"|
And sometimes they sound truly horrifying. It's like the world's worst sound passed through the world's loudest amplifier, except it only amplifies the worst part of the sound.
Plus, they occupy that unfortunate space where a rational person has nothing to be mad at. You can't be angry at the baby, cause that's what they do. They eat, shit, and cry. You can't be mad at the parent, because look at them trying to comfort the baby. They don't want their baby to cry any more than you. Who else is there to be mad at? Society, for fostering an environment where babies aren't placated 100% of the time and therefore would have no reason to cry ever? That's dumb. You're dumb.
So again, you bear it. Except in the case of the neglectful parent that's basically making no effort to calm their child. What's the matter with you? Can we all get permission to smack these people? Well, the baby was already screaming, and now someone's attacking their parent, I guess that won't make them stop crying.
Wait, I know! Train clowns.