2000-03-17

Kneesies

I ride the subway every day. I should learn to adjust to sharing close quarters with 8 dozen malodorous strangers every morning, but I have yet to do so. The morning rush brings out the Misanthropic Bitch in me. Each morning I contend with any number of irritations, ranging from Obsession-drenched receptionist-types to those folks who play their walkmans so loud that their taste in music is shared with everyone else in the car.

By far, though, the worst offenders are the "kneesies."

Nine times out of ten, kneesies are male. They plop into the seat next to me, and make themselves right at home, knees way apart, to allow lots and lots of breathing room for what certainly must be their brutally enormous manhoods.

I don't want their knees touching me.

I've tried to be passive aggressive about it. I've shifted. I've glared. I've coughed. All to no avail.

This morning, though, I got clever. I decided to combat the problem by way of conducting a little sociological experiment. You could still consider this passive aggressive, I suppose. I boarded the near-empty train at Forest Hills Station, knowing that it would fill up quickly. I took a Kleenex out of my bag, wadded it up, and placed it on the seat next to mine.

And by God, nobody sat next to me the entire ride into work. Nobody would touch that wadded-up Kleenex, despite there being no other empty seats on the train.

Oh, it was heavenly, I tell you. My knees were unmolested for a full fifteen minutes.

lisamcc at 10:18:27

previous | next