It never ceases to amaze me how rude and gross people can be

It's always a bad sign when I walk up the stairs at Wollaston and see a mass of people waiting for a train. It's also a bad sign when the train appears and that mass of people gets on, uncomfortably squished, and the train doesn't move. It's also wicked rude and annoying when oblivious d-bags have their Metro opened as big as it can possibly be as they lean against and cover with their body a pole that 10 people need to grab onto, and then rub the edges and corners of the open newspaper against my arm, stomach and breasts. Newspaper assault!

When we finally arrived at North Quincy this morning, the conductor announced that the train would be express to South Station, and that anyone who planned to get off at the 3 stops between N. Quincy and South Station should get off the train. No one got off, as expected, but a bunch of people squeezed on. Naturally I get stuck in an awkward position with the newspaper assaulter now poking me even more in the front, a large man with a large backpack digging into my back, a B.O. stinkin' man with the hairiest arms I've ever seen to my left rubbing against my left arm, and a short woman pushing into me from the back-right, breathing heavily on and touching my right arm, and resting her arm on my right shoulder because she can't reach any higher and there's a suitcase and body blocking the rest of the pole. Oh, and there's a young woman sitting in front of me with her legs crossed (therefore taking up way too much room) huffing and puffing and complaining to anyone who will listen about the delays and how crowded the train is even though her body isn't being touched by ANYONE, and of course she eventually slams her high heel into the top of my foot as she un-crosses her legs. Does she apologize? No. She gives me a dirty look and sighs again, as if it's my fault for being in her way and I deserved the pain or something. So nice.

If my math is correct, I had a minimum of 4 people constantly touching me and pressing into me during my entire ride from Wollaston to S. Station with a couple foot stomps. I won't even attempt to count the number of other bodies with which my body came into unwanted contact at Downtown Crossing.

I HATE the red line.