Ok, I have a new beef today: People who cut you off.

When I look back at all the blog entries I’ve written, the topic of this one is the one that pisses me off the most.

Today, a nicely dressed man cut me off. While looking at me in the eye.

We Metro denizens and riders have a complex etiquette system that rivals something Miss Manners would recommend to an erring parent. However, one area in which etiquette often fails is, as I’ve indicated above, when people cut you off.

Now, this nicely dressed man was standing behind me. I repeat, behind me. We were both getting off at the next stop, and he knew I was getting off too. You might ask, “How did he know?” It is because I got up from my seat and started fidgeting. Yes, fidgeting like I mentioned in my last entry.

So I’m there, fidgeting, waiting to get off at the next stop. He sloughs his body around mine as deftly as a NBA player. Stands in front of me, partially blocking my way. The whole time, he is looking at me with this smug look that almost says, “I know what I did. So what are you going to do? Are you going to do anything, you pathetic corporate rat-race vermin? Go plod off to work!”

I stood there, and I started to boil a little bit. You see, I have an electric stove and it doesn’t heat up too quickly. Takes it a while before it really gets going — but watch out when it does! The man who cut me off and I both shuffle off the Metro, and during the whole trip up the escalator and through the turnstiles… he almost makes it a point to stay infuriatingly in front of me.

Always, always in front of me — laughing, laughing.