Let the Chips Fall Where They May

The other day I was on my way home from work, nestled comfortably in one of the little one-seats next to the partition near the rear door of my car. These are my favorite seats, because there’s absolutely no way someone can sit next to me, I get both the armrest on one side and the partition on the other to support my arms while reading, and I still get to sit sideways and avoid any possibility of motion sickness.

Perfect unless, of course, a huge fat man sits down in the forward-facing seat next to me and starts eating a bag of chips.

I cannot stand people who dare to eat on Metro. The Metro Authority sets a strict no-eating-or-drinking rule accompanied by a major fine ($250, I think). Unfortunately, I have yet to see one of these fines enforced; I yearn for the opportunity like Dane Cook looks forward to seeing somebody get hit by a car. The rule is a good one, because the reason D.C. has the best subway system in the country is because people aren’t allowed to eat three meals a day on the trains like the stinkin’ New Yorkers do. Thus the trains stay clean and, most importantly, rodent and insect free. So when somebody’s eating on my train, it pisses me off.

This guy is even worse, though, because it's a bag of chips making a bunch of noise—both the bag and the gnashing. Even WORSE: He keeps eating the chip crumbs falling on his huge stomach.

And then he does one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen on the Metro: When a chip crumb falls on the seat next to him, he picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

Tourists.