I know I always complain about the lack of subway etiquette: the backpacks, the spot pusher-outers, the door stampeders, the armpit-in-your-facers, the nail clippers... It goes on and on.
Today, I offer a new experience:
I'm sitting in one of the single seats on my morning commute into work - one of those seats with the "Please give this seat to the elderly or disabled" stickers. Not my first choice, but it's all that was available. So I'm sitting there, enjoying my coffee, when I feel a heavy tap on my right shoulder. Quite heavy. You know what, never mind heavy tap, I'd say it is better classified as a slap. Shocked, I turned around and looked up to find a tall old man, who must have just boarded the train, glaring at me, and pointing to the sticker. I promptly got up and gave him my seat.
As I arranged myself among the "standers" and reached for the hand rail above my head, I started to consider what had just happened. Normally, I have absolutely no problem giving up my seat to anyone to appears to need it more than I do. In fact, I quite frequently do give up my seat - whether reserved for the disabled or not.
This time, the whole situation really bothered me. Yes, maybe he was having a bad day, but you know what? No excuse. First off, how about a nice tap on the shoulder and an "Excuse me, would you mind if I sat here?" The glare, the smack, and the overall jerkiness were entirely unnecessary. It had that whole "these kids today have no manners" attitude about it. And speaking of manners, I'm sorry, but out of the two of us, the one who would benefit most from an intensive stay at Miss Porter's, surely wasn't me!
Secondly, how did he know that I wasn't disabled myself? (Thus back to the initial politeness of asking for the seat.) Maybe I had a right to be there. Maybe I had a vision problem, or vertigo. Maybe I'd just had bunion surgery, or twisted my ankle on my walk to the train that morning. Hell, I could've had a prosthetic leg for all he knew!
Anyway, it is what it is. I just went about my day as usual. But, now, looking back I wish I'd done something to prove a point to him. Maybe I could have been a bit jerky right back, but nah, that's not me. A better option would have been, upon arriving at my destination, to have exited the train with a slow, heavy limp - and to have made sure he took notice as I dragged one leg behind me until the train moved out of sight.
Sinister, I know, but hey, maybe had I done that, he'd have reconsidered his approach and dialed back on the grouch-o-meter the next time he was in a position to request a seat. Maybe he'd realize that jerkiness is never necessary and that not everyone from my generation on down was raised in a barn (as my nana would say).
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