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Subway etiquette is wild.

Ever notice when people get up to leave, they stare back at their seats like they just gave birth to a secret treasure? Like—“Did I leave my soul there, a gold bar, or my dignity?”

Meanwhile, the next person hops on—no check, no blink, no glance, no hesitation—just a full-body commitment. They sit like, “If this seat is cursed, I’m already dead inside anyway.” Could be a puddle, a portal, or a raccoon with a knife down there—doesn’t matter. They’re a New Yorker. They are locked in and fully committed despite evidence suggesting they should not be. But hey—if it’s their time, it’s their time.

Cautious on the way out, reckless on the way in.