Author’s note: The article is snarky satire so if you don’t like it, save your typing fingers and judgments and stumble to the Christian Science review site. If, however, you appreciate dark humor of the lowest sense…congratulations for not being a total douche and read further. Thanks!

Hello fellow internet trolls! I’m a New Yorker. I don’t mean I moved here after watching an episode of Sex in the City and thinking to myself, “living in the City would be sexy awesome!” I mean I was born here, went to school here, and after a brief pause in Maryland, live here still. I’ve lived in 4 out of the 5 boroughs of the city and have ridden every line of the city-spanning subway system. I’m not confused by the terms “downtown” or “uptown” or “cross-town”. I know how to plan my trip to hit stations where they have elevators or escalators. I zip through the turnstiles faster than a speeding 4 train. And, believe it or not, I’m a friendly New Yorker. I often give tourist directions whenever I see a map and a confused face. I even use my authentic Brooklyn accent!

However, this isn’t about my love for my native town. I’m a ranter. So this is a rant about riding the subway which I have to do every morning and every evening. I have just a few gripes; ten to be exact. Got it? Good. Let’s roll!

“Ma’am, You’re a** is just too big for this seat.”

Subway cars have limited seating and it’s “first come, first serve”. Most NYers know exactly where to stand on the platform for the doors of the train to open in front of them; giving them an advantage of racing to the last seat. Sometimes, there is a very slightgap between two passengers…maybe 6 inches or even less. There will always be someone who looks at the mere pause of a seat and think to themselves, “I can sit there”, and then proceed to shoe-horn themselves in. The end result is three very uncomfortable people. If you are one of these people…a pox on you and your household!

“Sir, your Backpack just Assaulted me.”

The invention of the backpack was a major milestone in crap carrying. I don’t use a backpack because I’m a girl and live in the city, not the woods of Appalachia. However, I don’t overly fault those that use them…just make fun of their fashion sense with my friend later over wine. On the subway, backpacks become a hazard, especially filled with the bricks I feel as you hit me in the side with it. I don’t understand why these people don’t remove their backpacks once on the train…I can only assume that the offending pack is welded to their bodies and can’t be removed for any reason.