stop now if you don't want my angst; transition

I almost let this one go but the news today from Southwest Airlines reinforces what X calls my moral judgment.

I’m going to edit the profanity that was laced throughout the initial entry; here’s what we get from yesterday.

It’s called public transit for a reason, seriously. A few things that came up today on my usual northern Virginia / greater D.C. commute. The 401 was crowded this morning, lots of folks standing, yet we had some guy that I’ve dubbed Larry sitting in the outside seat of a two-seat bench. The window seat’s empty and Larry isn’t some guy going 399lbs. who needs two seats – Larry is a hateful person. Larry has direct descendants on Southwest flights: it’s always that couple sitting in the aisle and window seats during the boarding zone A cattle call. Even if you’re part of the A or B boarding they’ll sit there pretending they don’t know each other; as if two emptied-eyed, baseball cap wearing hucks from Kansas City simply ended up, by chance, in the same row. I hate them. Back to Larry. Larry apparently has a divine right to two seats even if some other rider doesn’t feel the need to tell him to either move over or stand up. You know what Larry? Even if you have two seats you’ve got a hundred people who think you’re an ass…and they think you suck. You can go through your simple life thinking you’ve pulled some kind of amazing feat…it’s a fine line between feat and jackassery.

Riding the Orange Line home this afternoon I noticed Larry’s cousin all laid back in my car. He had his headphones on while he kicked back and stretched his feet out on the elderly/handicapped seats in front of him. It doesn’t matter so much that the seats are reserved for anyone, it’s more a configuration I’m describing, but why is it that anyone thinks putting their crappy, stinky shoes up on a seat is okay? Why? If you want to rest your feet on your mother’s couch while you watch Dancing with the Stars, feel free. If you are somewhere that ain’t kin…knock it off. I can see Larry and his cousin, Larry, arguing over the last Miller Lite.

The city is full of doors that are triggered by pads that automatically open the door(s) for handicapped people. (I can’t get much deeper into peeves so I might as well continue.) If you aren’t handicapped, but simply too lazy to actually open a door, then stop with the auto-door function. Those things have a useful life and you’re burning up gears, oil, and maintenance time through your ease. Since I’m on this idea…if I’m ahead of you and between the auto-doors do not activate the doors from behind me and pitch the next door into me as I reach to open it. Look! I’m opening an effing door.

And finally, if someone is running for the train and you’ve decided that you can’t make it, or don’t care to make it, get out of the way. Even with the iPod playing you know full well there are people running for every Metro train in D.C. Without the iPod…you can hear them running. Move out of the way – it ain’t your world.

I quit.

That was a huge whine.

T.