Commuter Hatequette

I love and depend on public transit. I love public transit users. I just don't always love their choices.

Send your photos of commuter hatequette to commuterhatequette@gmail.com.
Okay. I feel bad posting this one, because it’s such a relatable offense. There are a lot of hard things about commuting every day - the crowds, the smells, the waiting, the dirt, the many, many delays and route shake-ups, the being groped, the people trying to politely inform you about their thoughts on religion, the rude people, the crazy people, the loud people, the making out people, the newspaper-fully-opened people, the door-blocking people, the people with a million bags, the people wearing Axe body spray, the subway-surfing teens, the skateboarding teens, the swearing-around-children-and-old-people teens, the teens who don’t take their giant backpacks off, children who run around, children who make the seats sticky, children who spill their sippy cups on you, children who cry, children who barf, children whose diapers smell, animals that make noise, animals that give you stink eyes, and, of course, the litter. That being said, I think we can ALL agree that the #1 hardest thing about commuting is HAVING TO KEEP YOUR SHOES ON. Ohhhh maaannnnnn, it’s like, when do I get to take off these ungodly foot cages?????!!!!!! How much can society EXPECT from me????? I work hard all day, I’m a good mother, I never nag my spouse about the growing ‘honey do’ list even though this goddamn house is falling apart all around us, I bake my own cupcakes for work events and even personalize them even though it’s late and I just want to watch The Bachelor, and I never get drunk even when I’m desperate for sweet, sweet numbness. Fine. But if you think I’m going to keep my bare feet in my sweat-filled shoes while surrounded by people longing for home who can’t escape this hurtling chamber of flying bodily fluids, then you’ve got another FUCKING THOUGHT COMING.  I feel you, sister.

Okay. I feel bad posting this one, because it’s such a relatable offense. There are a lot of hard things about commuting every day - the crowds, the smells, the waiting, the dirt, the many, many delays and route shake-ups, the being groped, the people trying to politely inform you about their thoughts on religion, the rude people, the crazy people, the loud people, the making out people, the newspaper-fully-opened people, the door-blocking people, the people with a million bags, the people wearing Axe body spray, the subway-surfing teens, the skateboarding teens, the swearing-around-children-and-old-people teens, the teens who don’t take their giant backpacks off, children who run around, children who make the seats sticky, children who spill their sippy cups on you, children who cry, children who barf, children whose diapers smell, animals that make noise, animals that give you stink eyes, and, of course, the litter.

That being said, I think we can ALL agree that the #1 hardest thing about commuting is HAVING TO KEEP YOUR SHOES ON. Ohhhh maaannnnnn, it’s like, when do I get to take off these ungodly foot cages?????!!!!!! How much can society EXPECT from me????? I work hard all day, I’m a good mother, I never nag my spouse about the growing ‘honey do’ list even though this goddamn house is falling apart all around us, I bake my own cupcakes for work events and even personalize them even though it’s late and I just want to watch The Bachelor, and I never get drunk even when I’m desperate for sweet, sweet numbness. Fine. But if you think I’m going to keep my bare feet in my sweat-filled shoes while surrounded by people longing for home who can’t escape this hurtling chamber of flying bodily fluids, then you’ve got another FUCKING THOUGHT COMING. 

I feel you, sister.

After an employment-related stress break (i.e. had to spend a lot of time procrastinating by watching TV), I am BACK with some commuter hatequette to report. Please, don’t applaud or dance around in joy. You might drop your laptop. First up, these super hot teen alternatwins. Let me just make clear the fact that the one in the ironic fucsia sweatshirt and Kurt Vile hairdo is NOT having a seizure. My iphone caught her in the midst of an eyeroll sequence. They were probably talking about their lame Bieber-loving stupid teen friends who do not even know about Kurt Cobain. If she WAS having a seizure, it would be slightly more forgivable for her friend to use a whole seat for her BACKPACK ONLY, and then decide to stand so she could look into her BFF’s ever-rolling eyes while lovingly clutching her hand. It’s sweet! I’m all about love between girls (as long as it’s strictly platonic, obvs)! But, standing girl, for the love of a classic lace/stripe combo, if you’re going to stand, MOVE YOUR BACKPACK. Just tuck it down there between your mini-uggs and your friend’s totally authentic moccs, surely bought from the nearest First Nations trading post! THERE IS SO MUCH SPACE DOWN NEAR YOUR FUZZY FOOTWEAR. Come on.

After an employment-related stress break (i.e. had to spend a lot of time procrastinating by watching TV), I am BACK with some commuter hatequette to report. Please, don’t applaud or dance around in joy. You might drop your laptop. First up, these super hot teen alternatwins. Let me just make clear the fact that the one in the ironic fucsia sweatshirt and Kurt Vile hairdo is NOT having a seizure. My iphone caught her in the midst of an eyeroll sequence. They were probably talking about their lame Bieber-loving stupid teen friends who do not even know about Kurt Cobain. If she WAS having a seizure, it would be slightly more forgivable for her friend to use a whole seat for her BACKPACK ONLY, and then decide to stand so she could look into her BFF’s ever-rolling eyes while lovingly clutching her hand. It’s sweet! I’m all about love between girls (as long as it’s strictly platonic, obvs)! But, standing girl, for the love of a classic lace/stripe combo, if you’re going to stand, MOVE YOUR BACKPACK. Just tuck it down there between your mini-uggs and your friend’s totally authentic moccs, surely bought from the nearest First Nations trading post! THERE IS SO MUCH SPACE DOWN NEAR YOUR FUZZY FOOTWEAR. Come on.

As someone who has had the pleasure of forcing it into many a babe’s mouth (ughh I think I’m contractually obligated to NBC to add ‘that’s what she said’), trust I am not jesting when I say that the banana (mashed) is one of the very first foods humans have the pleasure of ingesting (see what I did there?). After a few months babies get past the mashed stage, and delight in being able to grab small pieces of banana to deliver mouth-wards, and then even hold the whole thing and take cute little gummy baby-bites. The progression to toddlerhood is paved with banana peels - bananas are healthy, easy, cheaper than most convenience foods, and something a busy toddler can hold onto while waddling around without making too much of a mess. Preschoolers? May as well be called banana-ers. And THEN, once the kid hits elementary school…have you SEEN those insane yellow boner-style banana holders in your local yuppie-parent-frequented gadget/grocery store? The now-rich inventor of those thanks his/her (c’mon, who are we kidding) lucky stars every day that elementary school students inhale the vast quantity of bananas they do. Bananas lose some allure as children gain independence in middle and high school and start making questionable snack choices (you’re welcome, acne), but then get popular again once girls are old enough to want guys to know what it looks like when they give BJs. And, finally, as a bona fide adult, let me say that I, too, love bananas. On my cereal (jk, don’t eat carbs), in my probiotic non-fat hemp-seed covered yogurt, in a soynutbutter sandwich, or even on their own.  My point, you ask? My point is that AS A SPECIES WE HAVE BEEN EATING BANANAS FOR-EFFING-EVER, AND THE NUMBER ONE KNOWN THING ABOUT BANANAS IS THAT THEY HAVE A PEEL. AS SOMEONE WHO UNDOUBTEDLY KNOWS A LOT ABOUT THE PROCESS OF EATING BANANAS, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN BEING LEFT WITH A PEEL AT THE END OF SAID PROCESS. MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A PLASTIC BAG OR WAITED FIVE MINUTES SO YOU COULD EAT IT WHEN YOU WERE OFF THE SUBWAY AND COULD THROW THE PEEL OUT. I AM BANANAS FOR BANANAS BUT I NO WANNA SEE PEEL RESIDUE ON MY JEANS, BING-BONG. Big thanks to Ellie C. for sending me this picture in the midst of (I assume) a blinding fit of primal rage.

As someone who has had the pleasure of forcing it into many a babe’s mouth (ughh I think I’m contractually obligated to NBC to add ‘that’s what she said’), trust I am not jesting when I say that the banana (mashed) is one of the very first foods humans have the pleasure of ingesting (see what I did there?). After a few months babies get past the mashed stage, and delight in being able to grab small pieces of banana to deliver mouth-wards, and then even hold the whole thing and take cute little gummy baby-bites. The progression to toddlerhood is paved with banana peels - bananas are healthy, easy, cheaper than most convenience foods, and something a busy toddler can hold onto while waddling around without making too much of a mess. Preschoolers? May as well be called banana-ers. And THEN, once the kid hits elementary school…have you SEEN those insane yellow boner-style banana holders in your local yuppie-parent-frequented gadget/grocery store? The now-rich inventor of those thanks his/her (c’mon, who are we kidding) lucky stars every day that elementary school students inhale the vast quantity of bananas they do. Bananas lose some allure as children gain independence in middle and high school and start making questionable snack choices (you’re welcome, acne), but then get popular again once girls are old enough to want guys to know what it looks like when they give BJs. And, finally, as a bona fide adult, let me say that I, too, love bananas. On my cereal (jk, don’t eat carbs), in my probiotic non-fat hemp-seed covered yogurt, in a soynutbutter sandwich, or even on their own. 

My point, you ask? My point is that AS A SPECIES WE HAVE BEEN EATING BANANAS FOR-EFFING-EVER, AND THE NUMBER ONE KNOWN THING ABOUT BANANAS IS THAT THEY HAVE A PEEL. AS SOMEONE WHO UNDOUBTEDLY KNOWS A LOT ABOUT THE PROCESS OF EATING BANANAS, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN BEING LEFT WITH A PEEL AT THE END OF SAID PROCESS. MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A PLASTIC BAG OR WAITED FIVE MINUTES SO YOU COULD EAT IT WHEN YOU WERE OFF THE SUBWAY AND COULD THROW THE PEEL OUT. I AM BANANAS FOR BANANAS BUT I NO WANNA SEE PEEL RESIDUE ON MY JEANS, BING-BONG.

Big thanks to Ellie C. for sending me this picture in the midst of (I assume) a blinding fit of primal rage.

Today was a day full of good ol’ fashioned door-blocking. 

This bookworm did it:

Photobucket

This wicked amping kandi raver did it:

Photobucket

And a whole group of gym rats did it:

Photobucket

The interesting thing about that last picture, of course, is the 2L of Dr Pepper perched atop the dude’s gym bag. Many people need a refreshing caffeinated beverage on the subway. It helps you from being rocked to sleep by the rhythmic rail-riding, and also keeps you alert to the many, many garbled announcements of interrupted service. Seeing a subterranean soft drink is not uncommon. Once in a while you even score a sweet 2L sighting, but it’s usually coke or diet coke. It’s a rare man who can pound a 2L of Dr P. Also, I know these guys were coming home from the gym because they all had gym bags, they were all sweaty, and they all smelled bad. I love that his post-gym hydration of choice is not water, not gatorade, not a jamba juice, but a massive amount of the bubbly doctor. Ride on, door blocker. Ride on.

You can’t see it in the picture, but this is the text this nubile hottie was composing: “hey girl, wazzzzaaaaap? Just wondering, what’s your favourite thing about life? Probably my favourite thing about life is being so young and hot that I can do whatever I want without suffering any repercussions. Like right now, there are people wanting to sit down after a long, hard day at work, but they understand that my legs are so hot they need their own seat. No one’s mad at me. It’s awesome. So that’s probably my favourite thing about life. PS Todd totes got it in last night. It hurt a lot. xoxo” I know. I can’t believe that girl still uses ‘wazzzzaaaaap.’

You can’t see it in the picture, but this is the text this nubile hottie was composing:

“hey girl, wazzzzaaaaap? Just wondering, what’s your favourite thing about life? Probably my favourite thing about life is being so young and hot that I can do whatever I want without suffering any repercussions. Like right now, there are people wanting to sit down after a long, hard day at work, but they understand that my legs are so hot they need their own seat. No one’s mad at me. It’s awesome. So that’s probably my favourite thing about life. PS Todd totes got it in last night. It hurt a lot. xoxo”

I know. I can’t believe that girl still uses ‘wazzzzaaaaap.’

This isn’t really an issue of hatequette, just curious food practices. Not terribly obvious in the picture, but his lady on the bus is carrying a nice, hot, big ol’ slice of ‘za home to enjoy, presumably in solitary fashion (unless the rest of her fam hates pizza, but come on, now), rage-munching in front of Judge Judy as the injustices of her work day march through her head. But she’s ruining the pizza by holding it semi-vertically instead of going for the full horizontal! I could see the delicious grease starting to drip from the bottom of the bag as the glistening toppings began their inevitable slide southward. Even more curious: the woman got off at my stop, so I had the opportunity to watch as she held the pizza above her head to block the rain, umbrella-style. Maybe she was resentfully bringing the slice home for her husband who has heart problems and forces her to enable his dietary cheating. He can eat it, but he sure as hell ain’t going to enjoy it.

This isn’t really an issue of hatequette, just curious food practices. Not terribly obvious in the picture, but his lady on the bus is carrying a nice, hot, big ol’ slice of ‘za home to enjoy, presumably in solitary fashion (unless the rest of her fam hates pizza, but come on, now), rage-munching in front of Judge Judy as the injustices of her work day march through her head. But she’s ruining the pizza by holding it semi-vertically instead of going for the full horizontal! I could see the delicious grease starting to drip from the bottom of the bag as the glistening toppings began their inevitable slide southward. Even more curious: the woman got off at my stop, so I had the opportunity to watch as she held the pizza above her head to block the rain, umbrella-style. Maybe she was resentfully bringing the slice home for her husband who has heart problems and forces her to enable his dietary cheating. He can eat it, but he sure as hell ain’t going to enjoy it.

This reminds me of the classic Yacht Rock hit, “Two is Better than One (Seats, That is).” Love that jam.

This reminds me of the classic Yacht Rock hit, “Two is Better than One (Seats, That is).” Love that jam.

It’s not obvious in the picture, but this was taken on a rainy day. On a wet ride home from a long day at work, the LAST thing commuters want is to get their feet wet!! Wet ass is clearly the better option, so make sure you render it the only option. GET THOSE FEET UP, PEOPLE!

It’s not obvious in the picture, but this was taken on a rainy day. On a wet ride home from a long day at work, the LAST thing commuters want is to get their feet wet!! Wet ass is clearly the better option, so make sure you render it the only option. GET THOSE FEET UP, PEOPLE!

No matter what you do or don’t do when riding the subway, you MUST NOT allow your fellow commuters access to the doors. Yes, they’re often used for entering and exiting, but they’re also extremely precarious and can open at any time, sending riders hurling into the abyss. It’s up to us to stop door access. If you see unblocked doors, get the F#%K in there and do your civic duty!! If these young teens can do it, so can you! SACK UP, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!

No matter what you do or don’t do when riding the subway, you MUST NOT allow your fellow commuters access to the doors. Yes, they’re often used for entering and exiting, but they’re also extremely precarious and can open at any time, sending riders hurling into the abyss. It’s up to us to stop door access. If you see unblocked doors, get the F#%K in there and do your civic duty!! If these young teens can do it, so can you! SACK UP, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!

There’s barely enough space between seats on the bus to cross your legs, but don’t let that stop you from stretching out and giving your neck a rest. It is ROUGH holding your head up all day. This also gives your fellow riders the opportunity to practice visual lice-checks, which will come in handy in case they happen to be elementary school teachers. In addition, you can judge how well your dandruff shampoo is working based on the degree of disgust on their faces and the number of flakes in their laps. 

There’s barely enough space between seats on the bus to cross your legs, but don’t let that stop you from stretching out and giving your neck a rest. It is ROUGH holding your head up all day. This also gives your fellow riders the opportunity to practice visual lice-checks, which will come in handy in case they happen to be elementary school teachers. In addition, you can judge how well your dandruff shampoo is working based on the degree of disgust on their faces and the number of flakes in their laps.