Tales from the Transit Line
Curse from the Evening Commute:
To the young, able-bodied man who snuck his way into the last seat on the train and then promptly stared at his phone, while a pregnant woman stood in front of him – may you trip upon disembarking, on your undone shoelace, sending your iPhone 6 Plus sailing into the air, landing squarely on the track, where it is then promptly run over by the next train – your iPhone, that is . . .
Tales from the Transit Line
Curse from the Evening Commute:
If you are the kind of girl who wears stilettos and carries a four-hundred-dollar purse and can’t be bothered to move into the ’empty’ space in a busy train car at rush hour when people try to get by you, I hope a dirty, smelly man decides to push his way onto the train, anyways – right up against you.
Tales from the Transit Line
Curse from the Morning Commute:
If you bring your bike on the train at rush hour and park it in front of your seated self and three empty seats, may you get a flat tire of the next rainy day.
Tales from the Transit Line 