If I’m wearing headphones and reading a book on the subway, at least have the courtesy to not be annoyed when I answer “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you” after you ask me directions. About 47 other people were just standing there, no music, no book, but you pick me, and then you want details on your whole commute. “can I get the 6 train there? Can I transfer to Metro North at 125th? Can I please be sliced across the grill with a box cutter while I get robbed by Nietas?”
I paid eight gazillion $$$ for my ipod, and I’m gonna listen to it. Your questions cost me .34 cents. I don’t even look like someone you could trust, and if you knew who I consorted with, for a living, you’d probably pick another car. Iguess this is the underground version of road rage: the subway surly.
And so this became appropriate, and appropriate on another level, since Nikki Sudden died here a few weeks ago: