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A notice to all tourists who feel compelled to ride the Metro during rush hour:

It is unnecessary and certainly dangerous for you to locate your enormous bulk within two inches of my body so that you can provide your wife and the rest of your herd with over three feet of clearance. I see the need for your understandable concern that if you stand to close to the woman you might inadvertently stray within her Schwarzschild radius and be sucked in, forever unable to escape. However, I might gently suggest that if she is that dangerous, the Metro system probably prohibits you from transporting her through its tunnels anyhow.

Furthermore, in your situation I would also be terrified that anyone might associate me or otherwise assign blame to me for those lumps of slack-jawed mouth-breathing biomass I presume are your children. But you should have thought of that before you chose to breed – and who gave you permission, anyway?

If you insist on inching ever closer to my person, forcing me to flatten myself against the wall of the train lest I come into contact with your skin and its toxic excretions, be warned that I have sharp objects concealed about my person – house keys, a fountain pen, and if I dig in my briefcase I might even find a letter opener. It takes enormous reserves of willpower to refrain from enforcing my personal space by jabbing you with these sharp objects until the signal travels slowly up your nervous system to whatever you use to simulate sentience. On this morning, I possessed those enormous reserves, but on other days, you might not be so lucky.

So the next time you and your stumbling herd come to share my commute, consider yourself warned.

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