An Elevated Train Report: The Masher

** A quick note: For those who are old members of the site you will remember the "El Report" as one of our regular columns. The idea is that those of us who live in decaying, urban hell-holes have to take public transportation to get around. Naturally, these rides result in ridiculousness of all shapes, sizes and smells. Hence, the need to make fun of these experiences and people. Also, any person referred to will be in the male context because we know you beautiful woman would never do this shit.

The Masher ranks pretty high as far as people who deserve a bullet in the head. This rider smashes, slams and bullies his way onto the train or bus no matter the situation. Does it not matter to this guy that there is absolutely no room and the people he is cramming into include a person who smells like old Jordache shoes, a person coughing every other second and a homeless dude wearing a disturbingly low amount of clothing? Nope, he doesn't give a damn -- The Masher needs to make that train!!

I'm guessing his thoughts range from the logical ("I'm late and don't care") to the mildly entertaining ("I can't stand people so I'm going to use this environment as an excuse to inflict pain") to the absolutely insane ("If I don't make this train I may have to wait a whole minute for the next one!"). I hate these guys mostly because I am of the strong belief 90% of them subscribe to the third line of thinking. Listen here jackwagon: There will be another train very, very soon. You are already late, we don't have room and you are fat. Get the hell out of here.

Within this species of handlesticks resides a small sub-species: The Mish-Mash Backpack. Yes, this is someone to be very afraid of and should be avoided at all costs. This person consists of 100% Masher and 100% Jansport backpack. In a nutshell, this guy forces his way into a situation where he certainly is regarded as a mortal enemy by those around him, does not show any remorse for the extreme chaos he has caused and, to top it all off, he has come aboard with half of the Library of Congress on his back. You son of a bitch. No, no, no, I don't mind that your calculator is digging into my hip or that the edge of your organic chemistry book is cracking my L5 vertebrae; you keep on riding brother.

The Masher is a rare breed in that you can almost understand his logic but you also want to smash his solarplex at the first opportunity. Your best remedy is to admit your defeat and get off that train to catch the next one with ample leg room. Although, you're late so you probably don't want to do that.