I am consistently dissapointed, nay, horrified by my encounters with the GP. After a five hour train ride from Boston to NJ in which I was subjected to close proximity with a variety of unsavory types, I propose for the consideration of the US government (and specifically the TSA) the following regulations for the well being of folks like you and me:
- Cell Phone Restrictions: Conversations are to be kept to a bare minimum not to exceed a maximum of three minutes. Permissible topics include transportation delays, estimated time of arrival, emergency situations, and important reminders (eg "Don't forget to pick up the kids/dry cleaning/rum"). I do NOT want to hear about tomorrow's 10:00 AM meeting, your sorority sisters, lengthy family arguments involving intimate details of your personal life, last Tuesday's episode of The Hills, or your plans for the Super Bowl.
- Volume Regulations in General: Keep it to a whisper and this includes your goddamn iPod. If I liked R Kelly then I'd put him on MY iPod. Furthermore, if you are under 21 and traveling with friends, know that the rest of us are coming from a long eight hour day of work. We don't think your rebellious loudness is cool. Stop showing off for the adults. You make us wish your parents had had access to Plan B.
- Personal Space Control: See this?
The area in red represents my seat. I paid for ALL of it. You may not share it with your love handles, stretched legs, or shopping bags. If you require more room then go purchase some. I intend on using all $63 of my train seat. If you insist on invading my domain, I will calculate the percentage of my ticket you are occupying, add a $50 annoyance tax, and help myself to your wallet when you run to the bathroom.
- Hygiene Requirements: Sometime in the 24 hours leading up to boarding public transportation, a full shower must be accomplished. This includes use of soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and deodorant. A thorough dousing of Axe body spray DOES NOT COUNT as bathing.
But alas, until the government starts paying attention to my many letters of suggestion, a word to the wary traveler: arm yourself with an iPod of Enya, a fashion magazine full of perfume ads to discreetly stick your nose in, and a glare of pure rage.
1 comment:
Oh God. So true. Nicely put. Can only. Post in. Two word. Sentences apparently.
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