Why I Hate You...

Continuing the series of awards to special customers who've irritated us enough to bring commuter sweats to a boil.

Why I Hate You: Middleaged Commuter Pals

Alright look.

It's 7:08 in the goddamn morning. This is everyone's silent sacred time. Time to catch up on the morning news via blackberry, to answer some early emails, to catch a couple of the Zs you'd missed last night.

So listen up middle aged debaters with no sense of personal audio space:

I dont care that you two made friends via a chance meeting on the train in which you learned both your kids attend the same school. Save the romance for Lifetime.

I don't care about your book.

I don't care how many times the number 48 appears in the motherfucking bible.

You're not interesting.
You're not amusing.
You're LOUD with your dirty uncle cackling ways and Cosby sweater.

Shut the fuck up. I'm tired. I fucking work for a living and this is one of two half hour trips where I can relax and either prepare for the day or unwind after a session of marathon meetings.

There's a code. A commuter code: If it's before 10am, you keep your voices low and your eulogies to yourself!

I hate you.

xxxooo Wrathos