Too bad I wasn’t wearing stilettos.

During my commute home last night, a guy got on the train at 30^th Street. He was probably about 40 or so, wearing a dark green t-shirt, and smelled like wet newspapers, old cigarettes and sweat.

When he sat down, he took up his seat and half of mine (the seat in which I was already sitting).  He was a bit bulkier, so I always like to accommodate if I can, but trying my hardest to melt into the train wall was not helping me escape the smell.  Also, it didn’t help that he kept reaching into his pocket, thus simultaneously elbowing me and rubbing his sweaty arm against mine. 

We arrived at the stop before mine, and I said, “Excuse me sir, can I please get by?”  No reaction.  I say a little more loudly, “Excuse me, can I get out, mine is the next stop.”  No reaction. 

Then the thought crossed my mind—I’m such as ass, maybe he’s deaf!  So I start waving my hands in front of his face to hopefully get his attention. Still nothing.  I then thought to myself—I’m such an ass, maybe he’s deaf and blind!  

Nope, neither. I quickly realized that he was looking down, writing a text message and completely ignoring me.  Others started to notice that I was trapped, so the man standing next to our seats said loudly, “Sir, can you please let her out? She has to get off the train!”  Nothing.

In one last attempt, I yelled “Sir I need to get off the train! Please get up!” He looked up for a brief moment, said “Oh,” but didn’t bother to get up.  He continued typing and slid his legs to the side so that I had to climb over him.  I was not about to miss my stop, so I climbed over him like a sherpa.   

Too bad I wasn’t wearing stilettos.