Before I moved back to Toronto, I romanticized the subway. So cool and so urban. Living in Nova Scotia, I guess I missed the hustle and bustle of big city public transportation. Now that I take the subway twice a day, five days a week, I have come to the realization it is one of the circles of hell. It brings out the absolute worst in people, including myself.

Normally sweet, mild-mannered humans become vicious. I see adults pushing children out of the way to get on the train. I witness healthy looking businessmen not offering their seats to the pregnant and the elderly. If I accidentally step on someone’s foot or fall against them because of an abrupt stop, I get glared at like I killed their firstborn or stabbed their mother. It’s all Lord of the Flies down there.

Then there are the people who eat on the subway. It’s so yucky. I see people eating crackers and then licking their fingers. Think of all the germs they’re both ingesting and spreading. I often see people eating full meals out of giant Tupperware and drinking soup. SOUP!

And how the heck can people fall asleep on a crowded subway? I don’t care how late you stayed up the night before, unless you have narcolepsy, it’s weird.

The sad thing is that I’m becoming one of the “vicious” ones. I now push people to get on because I don’t want to be late for work and I glare at people who stand just a little too close. I’m just weeks away from slurping soup and knocking over granny to steal her seat.

But the absolute worst thing about the subway is that is always ruins my precious, precious hair.

Bastard.