Sardines

Something's up with the 7 train. I get on in the morning and it's already packed. And then the train just sits in the station for another 10 minutes and it gets more packed. This morning, some lady got on at the third stop and just started screaming at some guy who kept apologizing and looking innocent. I wondered if a fight would start. At the best, it'd be entertaining. At worst, they'd stop the train and wait for the police to show up and make me late for work. Well, nothing happened, but then innocent-looking-guy decided to use the same pole as me and I spent the next half hour staring into his armpit. Delightful.
I can't wait to move to Brooklyn. It'll be a sardine can, too, but at least it'll only be 20 minutes as opposed to 40 minutes worth of armpit torture.