An open apology to my fellow TTC Riders; OR: Dear entitlement-complex-afflicted asshat;

I’m sorry. I’m sorry rabid wolves ate your parents when you were an infant leaving you orphaned to fend for yourselves and learn the basics of urban survival. In the interest of furthering humanity I’ll share some tidbits about how to not be a total jerkass while enduring the Public Transit Experience.

1. Treat the bus, streetcar, subway, LRT like an elevator. When the door opens, people are going to get out – Let Them! They don’t want to go where you’re going, and standing in front of the door is an invitation to being trampled, smacked with luggage or purses, glared at, or sworn at. I’m an efficient multitasker, so when faced with this particular situation, I’m inclined to try and accomplish as many of these as possible.

2. There are people behind you! Get out of the way. If you “need” to be the first one into the subway car, keep moving when you enter it. I *Will* step on your crocs or toddler should you decide that the throngs of people trying to get on the train don’t matter once you’ve entered.

3. I know the window seats offer a crap view of miles of nothing, but suck it up and move over so that other people can sit down too. Nobody wants to lap-dance on you just to get a seat on a ttc vehicle. People just aren’t that inherently slutty. Deal.

4. Hold your bag, purse, newspaper or whatever. It doesn’t need a chair, I promise. I also promise that your shitty mcbreakfast won’t spontaneously combust if you carry it in your lap. But if you set your coffee on the seat beside you, I will light a candle in church and pray that it tips over and soaks your ass in scalding, hazelnutty goodness.

5. I get that we’re in close quarters in these tiny transit chairs. My ass isn’t even that big, and it still spills over. There is no need to accentuate this by opening your newspaper completely and resting your arm on my leg. You’re not superman, you can’t read two pages at once. Fold that shit up and get off my lap.
a. You’re tired. You had to wake up early. Bitch bitch bitch. I worked til 4 am and am stuck beside you snoring away on a subway at 9:30 am. Cool, catch some z’s if you want, but get your effing head off my shoulder. I’m not your build-a-bear and have no desire to cuddle with you. Even if you’re cute, it’s just creepy as hell. So help you if you drool on me.

6. If your headphones are drowning out my headphones, we have a problem. Well, you have a problem, because I’m going to gnaw your wire apart and then sing to you myself. Trust, this wouldn’t be pleasant.

7. I don’t know where you get the idea that you’ll get to your destination faster by travelling up my ass. I’m probably not even going to the same place as you. I tend to not wear stripes, so how you’re seeing my performance-enhancing racing stripes that encourage you to climb up there baffles me. I assure you they’re a figment of your imagination. Maybe just lay off the crack and you’ll stop seeing them. And lay off the Paul Tracey infatuation, it’s spoiling your ability to make good life choices.

8. If you’re screaming at your ex into your cell phone like a Mel Gibson wannabe, people are going to stare. Stop making your lameass life a public spectacle and there will be no issue here. This goes double for people travelling with their children. They’re old enough to know you’re acting like an asshole.
a. If you’re having any other sort of phone conversation, keep it down. Nobody gives even the tiniest rat’s ass about your life – good or bad.
b. If you’re a gaggle of teenage girls squealing on about anything: climb into a garbage bag and jump into the river. If you do not have a garbage bag, one will be happily provided for you. Or just don’t be a squealing Chihuahua and go on to live a long happy life filled with the whole world not hating your shrieking ass.

9. Don’t smoke on transit. This isn’t a new rule. I obey it, so you should too. You’re just asking for people to remind you what a dick you are should you choose to ignore it. I hope you get fined. Or gored by wild donkeys. Whichever.

I hope that our crossing paths in the future doesn't completely suck.

Love,

Me.