That Touchy-Feely Sort of Day
Feb. 7th, 2006 09:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zesty_pintoComing in to work, I have probably been touched by more strangers than a universal game of cooties. For some reason, people that tried to wend by me attempted to accomplish this by touching me, hoping that I would move out of their way so that they can go the exact same direction I am. Even in the subway as I stood around in a half-stoned sleep-starved daze, someone used me as a ballast as they walk across the otherwise empty corridor of the train car just so they can get through the door that I blocked from one side.
Come on, people! Stop touching me! You don't know where I've been, for pete's sake. While it's nice to know that people consider me as clean to hold as the metal handrails of the subway that thousands of people touch everyday, it's also downright rude, no matter how many seconds you want to save getting to work from any attempt I have to move for you.
I swear, if I get touched on the way home, then I'm going to start sneezing on people.
Come on, people! Stop touching me! You don't know where I've been, for pete's sake. While it's nice to know that people consider me as clean to hold as the metal handrails of the subway that thousands of people touch everyday, it's also downright rude, no matter how many seconds you want to save getting to work from any attempt I have to move for you.
I swear, if I get touched on the way home, then I'm going to start sneezing on people.
