Today I was on my way home from work and the train was mighty packed (as usual), but I was lucky enough to get a seat after only one stop. I had been running around all day at work and my feet hurt, so I was thankful. Normally I don't mind standing a bit for the half hour ride uptown, but I was ready to finish 'The Posiedon Adventure' and listen to something jazzy....how fancy of me, huh? After several stops someone tapped me on the shoulder. A middle-aged man was looking down at me and asked if he could take my seat and sit down. My wonderful seat, which I might get once a month during the 5 o'clock rush was going to be TAKEN? But alas, what else could I say without wanting to make a scene (which I don't really do). So I gave up my seat to this perfectly able-bodied person so he could sit down, remove the largest submarine sandwich I have ever seen from a bag, and commence to finish every bite before my very eyes. And then, folks...3 stops later (a total of, say,10 minutes after he commandeered my lovely molded plastic, flocked seat)...the man was off the train and walking down the platform at Addison Street like nothing had ever happened.
So I say folks, only go through the trouble of asking someone for a seat so you can have a wonderful, sit-down meal like mom always wanted. Boy did I learn my life's lesson tonight!
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