3.30.2004
Commuters can either compromise a cute culture, or totally skeeve, presenting gestures so inappropo that only a writer would find them amusing.
Schmoozing white-collars by day, but at hearth, uncooth maldoers.
Executive 1 cannot wait to eat dinner. He is famished. He managed to snatch a take out tray of rice, meat, and some unidentifyable cheesy side. He rampantly unwrapps it and prepares to eat, the scent swirling with that of the courtesy restroom. His cell phone rings. He jumps and drops the dish onto the quiet woman next to him. "Whaaa happent?" she wonders.
"My cell phone. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Buddy, was your call worth spilling onto a fellow passenger? Eat up.
...
The aged exec struggles to fit his wooden briefcase in the seat next to him, and diagonal to me. I suggest he puts it on the seat next to me. He ignores me, but procedes talking to SOMEone.
...
Unexercised executive chooses to inconveniently squeeze into the seat facing me. Rather than crossing his legs like a gentleman, preserving my confort level, he opts to straddle my legs, as if he is too macho to scoot over. My legs fall asleep from being pressed so tightly together, in attempts to not brush his inner theigh.
...
Schmoozing white-collars by day, but at hearth, uncooth maldoers.
Executive 1 cannot wait to eat dinner. He is famished. He managed to snatch a take out tray of rice, meat, and some unidentifyable cheesy side. He rampantly unwrapps it and prepares to eat, the scent swirling with that of the courtesy restroom. His cell phone rings. He jumps and drops the dish onto the quiet woman next to him. "Whaaa happent?" she wonders.
"My cell phone. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Buddy, was your call worth spilling onto a fellow passenger? Eat up.
...
The aged exec struggles to fit his wooden briefcase in the seat next to him, and diagonal to me. I suggest he puts it on the seat next to me. He ignores me, but procedes talking to SOMEone.
...
Unexercised executive chooses to inconveniently squeeze into the seat facing me. Rather than crossing his legs like a gentleman, preserving my confort level, he opts to straddle my legs, as if he is too macho to scoot over. My legs fall asleep from being pressed so tightly together, in attempts to not brush his inner theigh.
...
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