Whenever I get stuck on public transportation during rush hour, it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to shout, “You guys, I deserve a seat because I don’t really belong here.  I pay for my own health insurance and work from home and this is just a fluke, so cut me some slack, ok?  Ugh, did someone really just fart?  You’re trapped in an air tight capsule with 100 other strangers and you think to yourself, perfect time to fart?  And now you have no remorse?  You must be a real psychopath.”

What I normally wind up doing is sticking out my gut and hope that someone thinks that I’m pregnant and offers me a seat.  This works close to never, but if it ever did, it would be equal parts awesome and awful.