Dear Taro-kun

Yes, you. I don't know if your name really is Taro, but it's an appellation I find fitting for males of your ilk. In your early 20s, evidently not quite as in touch with the world around you as the rest of us. You could be a student, and / or some mummy's boy who hasn't suffered the indignities of the boot camp which is Japanese company life, which would have at least given you some sense of perspective in your interactions with your elders and / or betters (estimated at approximately 97% of the human race).

You were at Tokyo Station, weren't you? Behind me in the queue on the platform? Waiting to board the Chuo Line train which starts here, so there were lots of empty seats? And you were going to pull the old Commuter Sneak Through The Doors Ahead Of The People in Front of You Trick weren't you? But you didn't reckon with me stepping into your path in a smoothly executed act of sidesteppery did you? Or me slowing down quite a lot, because I spend all day on my posterior and have no particular desire or need for a seat? Of which there were suddenly none left, and even the last comfy standing place by the doors was nabbed by yours truly. Pity you had to stand all the way to Shinjuku and beyond, unable to engage in whatever otaku-ish occupation (manga reading, game playing, pretending to be asleep so you wouldn't have to feel guilty or even slightly uncomfortable about not giving up your seat to someone who might need it) you were probably intending to, but hey, that's life.