Location: PBS Line, toward Documentary.

The flourescent lights shiver as the predator swishes its way through the crowds of prey. Its brown, white, and black camouflage serve it well, enabling it to hide throughly. The hard concrete ground below it is unyielding as the predator prowls past an ancient, shuffling specimen. It turns up its nose and continues on.

Ah! It detects an opening in the teeming masses of prey! It acclerates and with the grace of an eel, darts perfectly in the opening. The prey scatter in front of it like cornstalks in the path of a tractor. It is looking for the perfect prey — someone who it can cut in front of. Someone who will exhibit the perfect balance of anger and fear, so it can drink in the taste of sweet victory. It is almost time to consummate his master stroke. It gathers its energies, Akira-like and massively darts and cuts in front of someone.

Of course, that someone was me. Apparently this portly and balding line-cutter thought I exhibited the “perfect balance of anger and fear” and he smiled ever-so-slightly as he passed by. Even his back seemed self-satisfied. Can someone explain to me why line-cutters cut in the Metro? I mean, everybody is going the same direction and, just relax, you will get on the train or get off the train in time. No need to cut lines.

In this case, he cut in front of me as I was exiting the train. He was on the train with me. Behind me. But he got it in his head that I was simply going too slow (even though there were people in front of me) and just slooped in front of me blatantly and obviously. I mean, I’m shuffling behind a woman with 3 handbags and there’s someone behind me. What good is that going to do? There’s plenty of room to stand next to me and walk out. No need to insert your back in front of me.

That’s another Metro hazard for you. Darting Line-Cutters.