The arrogance of it! Just think: While your fellow straphangers are awkwardly removing their backpacks and contorting their bodies to fit into inhumanly small spaces, entering into awkward butt-to-butt and calf-to-calf unions with strangers, you stand with that smug look on your face, lording over a spot you erroneously think you own. I’m here to tell you that you don’t, and you need to move the hell in. Get to the center of that car and bond with your brothers and sisters in awfulness: the manspreaders, the full-body pole leaners and the people who think their shopping bag deserves a seat more than actual humans do (and who roll their eyes when anyone asks them to move it).
I don’t care that you really, really like it by the doors. Life is tough, kid, and we have enough to be angry about these days without you making yourself a human traffic cone.
Don’t block the doors; it’s as simple as that. And thank you for riding the New York City subway. Jerk.