Let me off the damn train

Last night I was riding the T from Downtown Crossing to Davis Square when I saw a guy stuff a candy wrapper in a gap between two ceiling panels. This rather rotund young man had called himself to my attention a few moments earlier when speaking with an equally rotund girl. Rotund Girl had asked Rotund Guy if he knew any of the girls that got off at the previous stop, to which Rotund Guy boorishly replied, "I don't know any of those bitches." At that point Rotund Guy became far more interesting than the Augusten Burroughs novel I was reading, which is no easy task. My interest in Rotund Guy was further rewarded when he spat out the open T doors onto the platform at the MGH stop in what seemed to be an attempt to impress Rotund Girl.

This is a very long way of introducing the idea that one can learn a lot about a person by watching the way he or she acts while on the T. And not just on the T, but also when entering and exiting a T car or station. When a guy opens a door to exit a T station does he look back to see if he should fling the door open wide for the person behind him, or better still, does he wait holding the door for an extra beat for a stranger to pass through, or does he lazily open the door just wide enough for himself to sneak though? Does the woman wait for everyone to exit the T car before she boards, or does she brutishly shove her way on? Does the floppy-haired teen give up his seat for the elderly lady with groceries, or does he look back down and continue texting on his Sidekick? Does Rotund Guy put a candy wrapper in his pocket until he walks by a trashcan, or does he stuff it between two ceiling panels while a man 85 minutes into his commute musters a glare of fatherly disapproval?