commute

To the man who squeezed his way into the seat between myself and the smelly man against the window, on the 8:12am Broadmeadows train to Melbourne; i hated you this morning.
It wasn't even the fact that you insisted on sitting with your legs wide apart so that both the smelly man and myself had to sit on the edges of our seats to avoid touching you.
It wasn't the way you turned your head and glanced at me, somewhat menacingly, as if to say "I've noticed your music, it is loud and irritating."
It was the fact that despite having my ipod up loud, I could still hear the whistling sound you made every time you breathed through your ugly, spotted nose.
I could have used the shoelaces from the smelly man's shoes to strangle you, the sound you kept producing, like an old steam kettle, was beyond aggrivating.
Lucky (for you) the smelly man was wearing sandles.
Why he was doing so during Winter is beyond me, but it's hardly the point of my blog.

Snotty nose, I hope you get fired at work today so that you never have a reason to commute with me EVER again.