Dirt

Busy train, standing room only, and two available seats. I look at them and they seem fine. I look on the floor in front of them and see a smudge of brown matter. I won't lie: it looks like shit. But it is mud. Shit doesn't dry like that. People are too freaked out by stupid stuff. 

So I have a seat, which is good. Then an older professor-type got on and splatted into the seat next to me. His shirt should be illegal. Plaid, button-down, short-sleeve shirts with khakis are an old man's casual Friday costume. Oh my god! I see your forearms! You cad! Eek! Controversy!

Also: you want to piss 100 people off at once, have your klaxxon alarm go off on a quiet morning commute.