Dear train benchmate,
If your morning routine involves so much cologne that people sitting next to you (in this instance, that being me) get watering eyes, you may need to seriously revisit that.
Also, pretty sure the small round spots on my shirt that weren't there this morning are your fault. So if you don't rethink your little policy, do the train janitors a favor and never sit next to me again. Cleaning up blood is hard.
No love,
Me.
Dear person in front of me on the metrocard queue,
If you don't know how to swipe a metrocard, the morning rush hour isn't the time to learn. You made me just late enough to miss my train so I had to wait two minutes for the next one and lost me at least one hundred points in the speed game*. And I was doing so good this morning too.
Please not being suicidal, yes?
Your not so kindly disposed fellow New Yorker.
Dear whoever it was that got reddish powder on my pants,
You suck.
Hate,
Me.
*the speed game is a test of spatial awareness and endurance in maneuvering around the City. You get points for slipping into crevices in the crowd, avoiding bumbling passers by and getting to your destinations as quickly as possible.
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