An open letter to that chick who stole my seat on the T

Dear skinny little chick,

Okay, yeah. It was rush hour and there was a massive crush to get onto the T. I get it. And my knee probably won’t bruise too badly from where your massive backpack slammed into it.

But you know what? You suck. I’ll tell you why.

You looked at me with your big doe eyes and said “everybody else was rushing.” That pissed me off. I hate that rationalization with a passion: Everybody else is doing it, which is why I need to labor-fake, or be the thousandth person to troll on this post, or open up yet another sketchy hedge fund. And you know what? It’s rarely the people who break the seal on the ‘bag-o-asshole’ who are the worst offenders. It’s people like you, who think everyone else has passed you by in the race to be a shithead, and so you run fastest. I hate you.

I am you.

I’ve done the same thing, make no mistake. There have been days—too many, actually—where I’ve followed the crowd, gotten swept up in the moment, and then, it was too late. I hit some nice lady in the kneecaps with my backpack. Inwardly, I’d cringe while I, too, sheepishly glanced at her and whispered “everybody was rushing.”

So, when you said that to me, I was pissed for a second before I realized the truth. You were being a little mindless bitch, sure, but you felt badly about it. Now, you were back to being you, which is a good thing ultimately. In reply, I said “it’s cool,” pulled out a book to read, and made a mental note to write a blog post on the subject. Why? Losing yourself is an experience you don’t want to forget, especially if you want to keep repeat performances to a minimum.

And that I most definitely do. Therefore, I thank you, little T-bitch. My knee will heal and with any luck, my mind will remember.

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