Rock up to the yellow parallel lines on the train platform indicating where the doors will be and stand on the left side, which puts me on the right (in other words, you dictated the side I stood on). Despite this clear demarcation of directional duties when it comes to which side of the door we will step to when the train pulls up (not to mention years of social training and conditioning), decide to try and step diagonally towards the stopped train so that you are in front of me (i.e., on my side). When, as we wait for the doors to open, I try to assert my territorial power and jockey to get in front of you, if only to teach you a lesson, start to push your whole body into me so that when I don't back up you are putting pretty much your entire body weight into me. Feel that physical passive aggressive tension? That is me not backing down. When the doors finally open after what feels like an eternity of pushing against each other, try to shove me out of the way with your arm so that you can get into the crowded train first. When that works and I shove you back, poke me with your fucking umbrella once our backs are facing each other in the middle of the carriage. You must have me mistaken for someone else with my hair like Goldilocks'. I have you beat in both the weight and height division, lady. I was having a pefectly fine day until now. I could really put the hurt on you if I wanted but instead I am standing here, fuming to myself about what a rude fucking woman you are, didn't your mother teach you better and haven't you lived here long enough to understand the train lining up rules!?!
This is why I get headaches.