Why Public Transportation is My Secret Crush/A Showdown with Miss Manners

My gentle readers, let me take you on a sensory journey. Pretend that you are around 5'1", the Shakespeare of your generation, and standing on a crowded subway. You are swimming in a sea of outstreched arms, as those around you are gripping the pole above. Then, because you are our Lilliputian heroine, imagine where your head is placed. If you guessed gently nestled in the armpit of a questionably groomed stranger, you are correct. Despite this daily inevitability, I love the subway with all my heart.

I intended to write this post about my terrible driving skills, but because someone's Facebook status said "Smile : )," I have decided to focus on the positive-the lifelong friends I have made. One morning I was minding my own business on the 3 train and the ride was particularly bumpy that day. There is only so much you can do to avoid colliding with other passengers. The train stopped at 72nd Street and the seat below me became free. Most of the time I prefer standing, so I gestured that the middle-aged lady behind me should sit there. She promptly sat down and turned to the man next to her and asked, "Have you ever noticed how all white people are rude? They just sit there crashing into you on purpose, just because they don't feel like holding on." Ok, wait a minute, a super attractive blond girl gave you that seat, last time I checked. As we rode on, her monologue's intensity grew and grew until she yelled, "White people smell like wet dog fur. Who is with me?" Ummm... from the looks that she was getting, I guessed that her revolutionary drive had hit a pothole. I finally escaped and forgot about the incident.

Two days later I found myself on the subway once again. It started getting crowded as a large group got on at 116th. And then I heard it again, "You ever heard of saying 'excuse me' when you get on the train? Do you even know how to talk like that?" I turned around and saw my friend of yesteryear facing down a very tall Dominican man. I guess that our rudeness was starting to infect the other races. He did his best to ignore her, but she kept shouting, "Repeat after me, 'excuse me ma'am." At the next stop she looked at him contemptuosly and said, "This is how you treat people." She walked over and said to me in a very affected tone, "Excuse me, miss. Could I kindly stand next to you?" I couldn't deny such aristocratic manners, so I assented, even though I was wondering if she remembered that I and all of my ethnic group were stricken with the putrid stench of wet dog fur just a few days before. I guess that the Victoria's Secret body spray was a good investment.

Lamentably, since that day, our lives have taken different paths, but I will always remember the lessons that she taught me.