The carriage was empty. It was divided into groups of six seats, four seats and two seats. I made my way to a group of six and sat by the window, stretching out my legs and emitting a deep relaxing sigh.
A man got on and made a beeline for the seat opposite me, completely ignoring the millions of vacant seating areas, plonking himself down with the air of a gimp grandchild who has no understanding of personal space.
I shifted to the next seat along and glared at him. He squirmed uncomfortably.
A few more people came into the carriage. Another man joined our area, pulled a little laptop out of his bag and proceeded to type away. My adversary watched him intently, studying his laptop, apparently examining everything he typed.
The man looked up from his laptop, clearly irritated, and glared back. Our adversary squirmed once again and looked away.
I took out my book and began to read. This incognizant hooligan sat there scrutinising the cover of my book. I put my book down impatiently and glared at him. He squirmed like a worm and looked out the window. I took out my phone to check for blog posts. He studied it intently. Once again I glared at him. He noticeably quailed.
We reached my stop. I stood up, gave him a killer of a glare and left. I didn't feel the need to say anything, my glare was an open book, written against him and his kind. The man with the laptop caught my eye as I walked past, we shared a moment of collective frustration.
Where do these people come from? Protocol Violators I call them. I once saw a Protocol Violator watching a fellow passenger do a Sudoku puzzle, it was the most heinous violation of intellectual privacy I have ever witnessed.
When the revolution comes the Protocol Violators will be the first up against the wall.