Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I don't like standing on the train, and I hate giving up my seat even more.
The thing is, anybody with gray hair thinks they're owed a seat. Pffttt! No cane, no seat. I know... I'm anal, pause. I'm working on it. I'm working on not letting anybody slide whenever my anal (pause) sense (pause) tingles (pause). During rush hour, if I'm really tired, I'll be that jerk off who contemplates sitting on a big-boned person's lap cause he/she is taking up two spots. Either that, or I'll squeeze in the tiny space and screw face them until they feel bad about taking up too much space. But when seats are up for grabs, I'm racing for one.
The train door opening is very similar to rebounding in basketball. As the train slows down (shot goes up), you step closer, anticipating where the door will stop (get good positioning) and then you box out (then you box out).
I'd be lying if I said I always get a seat. Sometimes, I just get to the scene too late, so I start profiling. I look around and start anticipating who is more likely to get off first. I just look at people thinking, "he can't possibly be getting off at my stop." Back in the Jamaica Queens days, it was white people. Now that I live in Ridgewood, it's black and Chinese people. It works on and off.But sometimes I can't help but think, "you know you live here. Would you get off the train already?" Imagine my surprise when a comedian talked about the same type of profiling during his stand-up routine this past weekend. So I get a feeling some of you do the same thing. Am I wrong?