One of my pet peaves? People on the platform who walk alongside the doors of the train as it slows to a stop, so they'll be right in front of the door when it opens. A couple of times I have had to step out of the way to let these people walk by... until I asked myself why I had to move out of their way when I was already at the place where the doors would be when the train stopped. Now I just pretend not to notice those people. So these people have walked right into me on occasion... which is funny....

Also, again, why time limit, then?

I don't believe there is a time limit, personally.

I love being able to stand right where the door will be....and then having that door be right at the exit of the stop where I'm going.

So these people have walked right into me on occasion... which is funny....

and the extra frosty "excuse me" is also fun.

I thought the time limit was from when you start reading to when you can verbally communicate.

I don't believe there is a time limit, personally.

::adopts Jesse::

I get a little truculent about standing my ground or smashing past people who are unjustly standing theirs. But I like the veil of anonymity that falls over your violence in the Underground.

How are these not killing offenses?

Whaddya talk? Reading someone else's book is just passively accepting electrons into one's eyes. There is no offense involved. Now, talking to someone about the book they're reading, that's an assault on the personal bubble.

I have been in situations where my T-neighbor realizes I am reading along, and moves how he holds the book so that I can read more easily. Rarely, they will pause and wait for a nod before turning the page. I think it's cool! Symbiotic, like.

Now, talking to someone about the book they're reading, that's an assault on the personal bubble.

I did once say something to someone who was reading the same book as me, but he wasn't feeling it.

Reading someone else's book is just passively accepting electrons into one's eyes.

Well, sure, if you read the same word over and over and over until the page is turned.

My symbiosis does not allow for this. Talking is fine, but me raising a book is my cone of invisibility. You can read the cover, you can even talk to me about the cover, but you cannot acknowledge that the insides exist.

I did once say something to someone who was reading the same book as me, but he wasn't feeling it.

I realise, that when I saw Bradley Cooper reading Middlesex that the reason I didn't talk to him about it was because he was famous. It was an interesting enough book to talk about.

But I like the veil of anonymity that falls over your violence in the Underground.

I developed a serious briefcase-fu (as well as a largish-guy-moving-through-crowds style) for clipping knees of people who were rude in the subway or the commuter train rush. I don't do that commute any more (nor do I carry a briefcase) and I don't miss it, but the random violence, I do kinda miss.