Commuter Column: Is This Bag Taken?

One of the many things that Metro North conductors are generally terrible at (besides far-reaching concepts like "customer service") is telling people to remove their bags, purses, suitcases, or unfolded copies of The New York Times off the seat so that someone (like myself) can sit down. Instead, people just take up as much room as they can. It's like a tiny, moving version of urban sprawl, and every white guy is a mini-mall. Sure, you'll hear the occasionally announcement over the intercom: "Please make sure all seats next to you are available for other customers, the train is very crowded today" or something to that effect, which doesn't take into account the fact that every day the train is very crowded and the even more important fact that nobody listens to those stupid announcements.

Once I made a move that can only be described as Mario Bros.-like, since the two people at the opposite ends of a three-seat row weren't budging and had their shit in the middle. I hopped, like the mustachioed plumber, vertically and landed smack-dab in the middle of the two men. It was kind of impressive but my butt really hurt afterwards. But I was proving a point. Or something.

But recently I've noticed that it's gone beyond just the seat next to you. Now commuters are occupying the racks above the seats too - and not just the racks about their seats.

Just the other day I was getting on the train and I went to sit down in an open two-seater. I went to put my bag and jacket in the overhead rack only to find that it was completely taken up by a large duffle bag and jacket. The woman, sitting in the two-seater behind me, had nothing in her allotted overhead space. Instead, she was monopolizing mine.

"Excuse me miss," I said, calmly. "I know this is your train and I'm just riding in it, but I would really appreciate the use of the overhead rack."

She then launched into a tirade. She had a sharp Middle Eastern accent that did a lot to accentuate her fury. Much of what she said couldn't be printed here. I'm not sure if her indignation sprang from the fact that my wise-assery rubbed her the wrong way or if it was just shock from someone actually calling her on her selfishness.

After her screaming fit (hopefully therapeutic for her) was over, I looked at her and said, "You know what, I'm not sure I really want to sit next to all of this" (at which point I waved my hand in the general vicinity of her face) "anymore." Then I walked down to an adjacent car and had a perfectly pleasant ride home. When you're riding the rails every day, you've got to take to heart the immortal words of Jay-Z: brush that dirt off your shoulders (just hopefully not into the unused seat next to you).