The young man who barged onto the 6 train this morning.

The train pulled up around 9:10. Usually, the 6 comes in every few minutes in the morning; today, it had been a little longer.

We waited patiently at the perimeter of the “Train Stops Here” box, known among our hockey brethren as the “crease.”

But you, young man of about 18, Asian, spikey black hair, white t-shirt and faded jeans, you barged right to the middle of the crease. Right in the middle! It didn’t matter that 10 of us waited on the perimeter, or that a few dozen people were about to stream out of the subway.

No, Spikey Hair Guy, you were concerned with one person, and one person only. Before the first subway rider had the chance to set foot on the platform, you tried to worm your way into the car, and looked surprised when everyone wanted to get out.

Tapping my (admittedly limited…not to mentino rusty) knowledge of Jedi mind tricks, I willed an old man to throw you an elbow, and he did–though being old it was a few seconds after you’d passed. On you slalomed through the full car, jostling riders left and right as you sought out a seat.

Perhaps it was your first time on the subway, or you come from a place where those on the platform have the right of way over those in the car. (Lord, what a dreadful place that would be!) I don’t know.

I can only hope that someday, I’ll be the one on the train as you push through, and I’ll recently have sharpened my elbow.

Sincerely,

Trainjotting

PS: What’s with the spikey hair, Billy Idol?