No steadfast rules are in effect when it comes to the flow of human foot traffic. Most straphangers conduct themselves in a manner that allows others to get on and off subway cars, even in the most crowded of scenarios. During rush hour there is often just a rivulet of space for the departing passengers to leave the station. And that asshole was barreling the opposite way through it. Pushing people out of the way. So I leaned in like a linebacker.

Honestly, I wanted to plant the fucker on his back. Absolutely no chance of his efforts being rewarded with a cramped spot on the train. People accidentally knocking their knees into his noggin as he tried to get back on his feet. Maybe getting his fingers stepped on as he hoisted himself up. Aches and bruises acting as a reminder of the asshole that foiled his attempts of disregarding common sense.

Seeing as I only created a brief obstacle, and the fact that I have no idea whether or not he beat the closing doors, my efforts probably will not have their intended effect. Even if I managed to flatten the creep, its doubtful he would have learned the lesson I was trying to convey. I can picture him stampeding through the crowds the very next day. No one there to pick up my slack and compound the instructive marks on his flesh. No one there to maintain the ingraining of a Pavlovian response into his psyche.

Interestingly, as I was gazing out into the darkness rushing past, through the glass of the subway door, moments before arriving at my stop. I was visualising a butcher's anatomy chart of my body. A Wile E. Coyote blueprint of the cuts of meat that my frame consists of. I'm definitely a cannibal's wet dream. I'm not stringy, and I'm not a whale. Nice amounts of firm succulent muscle mass, properly marbled with the perfect amount of fat. Then I encountered the enemy. Now that chart keeps popping into my head. Especially the ham section.