How delighted one is once he’s been granted the luxury to find a seat in the metro, right? Well again, not all seats are equal in regards to the eternal and sacred sweat pit that is the Dubai Metro.
There are two sets of cursed seated spots where the notion of private space is sucked up in a black hole of civil war to be. We’ll only talk about the face to face one seater version (the two seaters simply involves an additional rule of legs and shoulder fighting for space).
During your 20+ minute linear journey, you’re awkwardly facing someone and try to avoid seeing what kind of shade of red is the white of their eye that morning.
You may be facing the way or looking back – it doesn’t matter, the enemy is always in front of you. Cross your legs or the Pakistani will shove his two sticks in the interstice you left inbetween. Don’t stare in the European girl’s cleavage or don’t try to sneak a peack inside of her short dress when she crosses her legs the other way. Beware of the cockroach roaming around in the Indian guy’s 70s shirt collar style. The covered girl will not flirt with you. Contain yourself in front that Filipina shouting on the phone to ate.
When reaching a fancy pantsy station like ADCB (Karama), the metro changes shapes and colours. And smells. Passing on the case of douchebags all rushing inside without letting passengers get off the train, let’s fast forward when these people made their way in. They probably have a poor inside ear, hence a horrible body balance, as it seems it’s a matter of survival to grab those handles hanging from the top, which they obviously are placed right above your seat. So you find yourself surrounded by hung up degenerated urban monkeys, looking like a piece of clothe trying to dry up the world map shaped patch of sweat they put on freshly in the morning. There is a variation when people (the finest kind) put their turd off ass right on the side of your seat, touching your shoulder and arm with their caca box, with a baffling ease in the gesture. Till they get elbowed in the fuck.
Yet, there still are individuals standing above the aforementioned ones. Candy Crush cunt, Pokémon Go pieces or shit, What’s App asshole or Facebook fuckers that point their 1 month Filipino salary phone right at your face the whole trip standing next to you. Literally taking a picture of your scalp, if they were not actually checking the number of likes on the photo of their homemade pig feet pancit from the night before. So close from your head you can read their notifications by telepathy.
All these people should have a separate carriage, like we managed to put the women away. They could create one class for rude fucks only, with a colour code that would be brown. Or maybe I should go for Gold class, but that would be losing the fight by surrender, and going to the actual stuck up cunt carriage of the Dubai Metro.
