Men Behaving Badly

Living on a bus line isn't easy. For the past few weeks, I'd gotten in the routine of taking a bus that brings me to the Orange Line and into work, but with the new schedules the T started running this week, I've been taking a bus that brings me the Green Line at Lechmere. While the ride is a little slower, I always get a seat and can space out for a while.

This morning found me getting to work insanely early through some flux of the time-space continuum, so my Green Line train was unusually empty. At Park Street, a man got on the train and sat next to me. He then unfurled his Metro onto my lap, and leaned forward to read.

My purse was on my lap, but it was still annoying to have this guy gazing in the direction of my crotch. I started wiggling my leg to give him the hint that he was in my personal space. No dice. I rolled my eyes and gave a death stare so fierce the male nurse across from me who seemed quite nice was afraid. Nothing.

Instead of just waiting the guy out or talking to him (I was pre-coffee and therefore not verbal at this point) I too leaned forward and started reading his Metro over his shoulder. I got a few paragraphs into a piece about the Patriots before he caught the hint and maneuvered the paper away from me. But by the time I got off the train, the paper had wiggled back onto my thigh.

You know what's nice about a newspaper? You can fold it in half to make it easier to read. It doesn't have to be spread wide open and take up three seats. So keep your papers off my freakin' lap, people, or else I'll whack you with my bag as I get off the train.